Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
by QuillInkAndParchment
Summary: Bonnie Hargrave and Ian Rosier. The tale of a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin, an unlikely friendship, and an even more unlikely romance. Set in the years just before and during the Golden Trio's time at Hogwarts. What adventures will Hogwarts provide?
1. Hogwarts

**((As ever, I own nothing. Any and all recognizable characters, places, events, etc belong to J.K Rowling. To those of you who read Just so Long and Long Enough, I promise this one is lighter. A LOT lighter...and should have a happy ending, in some way.**

**And so, Chapter One. As always, reviews/favorites/alert adds are loved. Please keep in mind that this is, for me, purely play, and I don't put much time into truly editing, even though I probably should. I apologize in advance for any discrepancies you may notice. If you catch them, feel free to point them out. It'll be like an Easter Egg hunt. Or something.  
Anyway, ignore my silliness, and enjoy! This Hufflepuff very much hopes that you do.)) **

It was eleven in the morning on a Saturday. She would always remember that, though the date itself would slip her mind, as dates always did. But she knew it was eleven on a Saturday because they had all been sitting at the round white breakfast table, surrounded by the glow of sunlight coming in through the flimsy white curtains on the windows. Her father had been reading the paper, pajama-clad legs crossed while her mother in her dressing robe sipped coffee and flipped through the glossy pages of Witch Weekly. Her two older brothers had scarfed down full plates of eggs and bacon and were now discussing, loudly, something to do with Quidditch. Her little sister, only three years old, had been perched happily on her lap, flipped through the brightly colored illustrations of Tales of Beedle the Bard. Their morning had been suddenly interrupted by the tapping of owl talons at the window.

Much to her displeasure, her eldest brother got there first, allowing three owls in to drop letters, one by one, in front of the three oldest Hargrave children. Frustratingly, they seemed to drop in order of age - Gerard, then Alan, and then (finally!) Bonnie.

The Hargrave children all looked alike. One glance could tell that they were siblings. The same shaped eyes that varied from Alan's true blue to Bonnie's almost-green. The same smiles. The eldest and the youngest leaned more toward the looks of their father - Gerard and little Poppy's hair was finer, straighter, though all four shared variants of the same golden coloring. Gerard and Poppy both had darker gold, Alan's was sandy, and Bonnie's was an almost silvery-gold, fairer than the rest. Ger and Poppy's eyes were similar stormy blue-greys, their features more pronounced. The two middle children looked like their mother: more deeply colored eyes...Alan's a perfect, solid blue, Bonnie's the same with a reaching starburst of green around the pupil. Their features were finer, small noses and higher cheekbones. Bonnie had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, a feature she shared with the sister sitting on her lap.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Their mother asked, smiling at her children with their letters in their hands. "Open them up!"  
Clarisse and Robert Hargrave were both fairly young, and still very much in love. Clarisse was very pretty with her fine features and deep blue eyes, the long strawberry-blonde hair that always seemed perfectly combed and prettily done. She was of middling height and slender, with long-fingered hands and a mouth more inclined to smiling than frowning. She was gentle and quiet, a woman who lived for her children but seemed to instinctively know when to draw them close and when to let them go. She had been a Hufflepuff in her Hogwarts years, loyal and trustworthy until the ends of the earth. Robert, with his broad features, broad shoulders, and height cut a rather formidable figure, though his gold-blonde hair and bright eyes seemed to soften the image. He was a stern man, but good, a man who loved his family and guarded them fiercely. His voice was a deep rumble, his laugh a thing that seemed to erupt like a volcano from the very depths of him. He had been a Ravenclaw, and kept his studious tendencies. His love for books was displayed in every room of the house in overflowing shelves.

"It's just the same thing as every year," Gerard grumbled, even as he slipped his thumb beneath the envelope flap.  
"Ger," Robert said warningly. The fifth-year Ravenclaw shrugged as he scanned his list of supplies.  
"It is," he said. "Same thing as always."  
Thirteen year old Alan read his list and then passed it to his mother, who held out her hand for Ger's, as well. Alan was living proof that Houses didn't always travel in families - he was the first Gryffindor in the Hargrave family in generations. Most of them had been Ravenclaws, with a Slytherin slipped in here and there.

Bonnie stared down at her envelope, trying to evade her sister's honey-sticky fingers.  
"Bon?"  
She looked up at her mother who smiled at her.  
"What are you waiting for, my love?"  
Bonnie bit her lip, shrugged, and opened her envelope slowly.  
What if Hogwarts didn't want her? What if she was a Squib? She didn't think she could be a Squib. Hadn't she made that garden rake turn to rubber when Ger had pretended to attack her with it? Hadn't she caused those teacups to dance in her excitement when her parents had told her she'd soon have a little brother or sister?  
She sucked her breath in and pulled the paper out, released it in a rush when she saw the words:  
"Dear Miss. Hargrave, we are pleased to inform you..."  
Her smile took over her face, and she squeezed Poppy happily.  
"What did you think?" Ger asked, laughing. "That you wouldn't get in?"  
"Yes, actually," Bonnie replied, her voice its usual piano-soft. She was suddenly surrounded by the chuckles of her brothers and father, the gentle smile of her mother.  
"Oh, darling," Clarisse said, "Of course you would!"  
Bonnie shrugged and passed the list to her mother, who stacked the three neatly.  
"Alan's going to need new robes, this year," she noted, her eyes growing soft. "He's grown so much this year..."  
"Mum!"  
"Oh, sweetie, stop. It's true. Anyway, we'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow."  
"Oh, mum, Violet's family invited me to go with them next weekend, can I skip..."  
"Ohhh, Violet!" Alan teased with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.  
"Shut up,you..."  
"Boys! Enough. You know your mother doesn't like it when you argue."  
Robert turned the page of his newspaper and adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.  
"Ger, sweetheart, that's fine. I'll give you your list and the money when you go. Alan and Bonnie, we'll go tomorrow."  
"And Poppy too?" the baby chirped, looking up expectantly.  
"And Poppy, too," Clarisse agreed. "Papa does have to work tomorrow, after all."  
"Aw, mum, you never let us go when we were little!" Alan complained.  
"You all went at Poppy's age," Clarisse replied. She uncrossed her dainty ankles and stood, taking Poppy from Bonnie's lap. "I stopped bringing you when you were old enough to want racing brooms and eagle owls. Now," she said, looking happily at her youngest daughter's sticky face, "Let's get you cleaned up, little one, shall we?"

Clarisse and Poppy disappeared up the stairs, leaving Robert to continue on with his paper while Alan teased Ger about Violet and Bonnie propped her chin on her hand, thinking happily of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts and wondering which House would be hers.

* * *

In her memory, Diagon Alley was a blur of robes and people, dripping with Fortescue's strawberry ice cream. For the most part, she recognized happily, it was all the same. But now tnat it preceded her first trip to Hogwarts, it was all so much better. The ice cream was sweeter, the colors were brighter, the people more wonderful. Their first stop was Madam Malkin's for new robes - Madam Malkin seemed to fall over herself to look after them. Clarisse, after all, came from an old French Pureblood family known for their money.  
After the robes had been sized and purchased, Clarisse sent Alan to Flourish and Blotts with strict orders not to stop along the way. He would pick up both sets of books while Clarisse and Bonnie made their most important stop: Ollivander's, for Bonnie's wand.

"Ahh, Clarisse Proulx. Now Clarisse Hargrave, if I'm not mistaken. Wand of twelve inches, Acacia, with the tail hair of a particularly fine unicorn mare, if I'm not mistaken."  
Clarisse smiled.  
"Correct as always, Mr. Ollivander," she said, shifting Poppy on her hip. "This is my second-youngest, Bonnie. It's her first year at Hogwarts."  
"Hmm. Another Hargrave. Your brothers both proved quite interesting to find wands for, Miss. Hargrave, quite interesting. Especially young Alan. Thirteen inches, apple, with a phoenix tail hair. Quite rare, quite rare indeed. And your eldest brother: Ash, with the tail hair of a unicorn. Quite a loyal wand, that one. And your father: Fourteen inches, laurel, with the tail hair of an unusually bold male unicorn. I remember every wand I ever sold, Miss. Hargrave, just as I will remember yours.I trust they are all doing well?"  
"Yes, sir," Bonnie said meekly. Mr. Ollivander, with his moon-like eyes and mysterious voice set her rather on edge. He seemed to look right through her rather than at her, and she found she would quite like to get her wand and move on. Her mother had promised her a pet, after this, and the thought cheered her enormously.  
"Good, good. Now, let me see...ah! Let's try this one, shall we? Acacia, unicorn tail hair, ten inches."  
But no sooner had Mr. Ollivander handed her the wand than he plucked it away.  
"No, no," he murmured, and moved toward the back of the store. Behind Bonnie, Clarisse and Poppy sat down on the single, spindly chair by the window.  
"Rowan, twelve inches, unicorn tail."  
Once again, the wand was plucked from her grasp before she could so much as brandish it. Bonnie turned back to her mother who shrugged and gave her an encouraging smile.  
"Don't worry, dear," she said quietly. "Mr. Ollivander is the best wand maker around. He'll find one for you."  
"All the best wands take time," he said. "The wand chooses the witch or wizard, you know. And while that Rowan seemed to like you, it wasn't quite the thing. Now...apple, with a dragon heartstring core. Particularly stubborn. Give it a try."  
Bonnie actually got to hold this one for a moment before it was taken away. This seemed to continue for quite some time, interrupted with Mr. Ollivander's comments about his adoration of a challenge.  
"I think," he said, finally, emerging once more from the back of the store, "this may have something. Eleven inches, cedar, with the tail hair of a unicorn. Unassuming, but really quite powerful."

She felt it as soon as the slender wand was placed in her hands. A tingle in her fingers that seemed to spread throughout her body. A sunburst of gold sparks showered from the tip, falling as gracefully as snowflakes and disappearing before they hit the ground.  
"Ahhh," Mr. Ollivander said, silvery eyes gleaming. "There it is. My father, Gervais Ollivander, used to say "you will never fool the cedar carrier," and he is quite right. I have never met a cedar owner who I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. You must possess great loyalty and strength of character, Ms. Hargrave. Cedar wands are particularly difficult to place. Especially when paired with unicorn hair - a more loyal, dependable wand you're unlikely to find."

Clarisse paid Mr. Ollivander for the wand and thanked him before leading Bonnie out of the tiny shop and into the bright sunlight.  
"One last stop, then," she said. They'd picked up the cauldrons and scales, vials and ingredients already, and Alan had purchased the books. Their last stop was Eyelops Owl Emporium and Menagerie. Alan's rat had caught sick the previous year and died, poor thing. It had been a wonderful pet, too, sleek and white as snow with the sweetest temper. He had decided to purchase an owl now, though, something with which his parents quite agreed.  
They left Eyelops with a beautiful tawny owl for Alan, and Bonnie happily carried a tiny kitten, all white but for black splotches on the tips of his ears and tail, and around his left eye.  
Alan, rather predictably, settled on Godric for his owl. Bonnie took longer on names, mulling over the options as she happily stroked her new kitten's soft fur.  
Finally, she settled on Milton.

* * *

The summer passed in a great rush, and the morning of September First dawned, cloudy and grey. A light rain had begun to fall as they entered King's Cross station, trunks and pet carriers neatly assembled on carts. Robert went first through the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten, followed soon after by Ger, and then Alan. Bonnie faced the wall and ran toward it as she had all of those years to see her brothers off. This time, there was no hand to drag her through. Just her own feet, and her own hands on the cool handbar of the cart. In an instant she was through, with her mother and Poppy close behind. Clarisse slipped an arm around Bonnie's shoulders and gave her daughter a light squeeze.  
"Who gave you permission to grow up so quickly?" She asked, gently teasing. "You were supposed to stay a baby forever."  
"Sorry, mum," Bonnie said. She blew at a strand of hair that had escaped its ponytail. "Maybe Poppy will comply."  
"I somehow doubt it," Clarisse said with a sigh.  
"I'm a big girl," Poppy informed her sister solemnly.  
"You see?" Clarisse said, laughing as the three caught up to the three ahead of them.

The goodbyes, thankfully, were relatively painless, though Bonnie could already feel homesickness blossoming somewhere near her stomach. Their father helped to stow their trunks before they regrouped on the platform for hugs and kisses and promises to write. Once on the train Ger, who had been made Prefect along with his girlfriend, Violet, disappeared almost immediately. He'd always been more distant, further in age than the other two and involved in his own affairs at Hogwarts, especially now that Violet had come along.  
"Come on, Bonnie," Alan said, grinning at his sister as he slung an arm around her shoulders. "You can sit with us."  
Alan's friends were a nice sort, if rather loud for Bonnie's tastes - mostly Gryffindors, though one wore the blue-and-bronze of Ravenclaw. They were all third years, but friendly to little Bonnie. Most of them had known her before their time at Hogwarts. These were Alan's oldest friends, children of their parents' friends who had spent enough time at the Hargrave home that they'd become like additional siblings. Adeline Jones was the Ravenclaw, a pretty, athletic girl with olive skin and dark hair who played Quidditch as a Chaser. Felix Maple was a Muggleborn who had dyed his hair outrageous colors over the summer. It stood up in tufts of neon yellow, orange, and red. It was as if his head had caught fire, even more startling than the Weasley's bright hair.

"You'll be in Fred and George's year," Addie told her as the train began to move. "They're Bill and Charlie's brothers. You know about Bill and Charlie, right?"  
Bonnie nodded silently and glanced shyly at the boys, who were busy calling back and forth as they tossed a Quaffle around the compartment.  
"Don't worry about them," Addie said. "You'll get used to all sorts while you're at Hogwarts. Which House do you think you'll be in?"  
Bonnie shrugged. She'd been thinking about it all morning and hadn't really come to a conclusion.  
"I'm not clever enough for a Ravenclaw," she said. "And I'm not at all cunning or ambitious or anything like that. I think maybe I'll be a Hufflepuff, like my mum, or a Gryffindor like Alan."  
"Well. Ravenclaw isn't all cleverness, you know. You could still be one, like Ger. I don't think you're at all the Slytherin type, though. You're too sweet and honest. That's the only one I would rule out entirely, though."

Though she hated to admit it, Bonnie was glad she didn't seem the Slytherin type. According to Ger, their Common Room was under the lake - he had a friend or two in Slytherin, and had been to their Common Room, had come to know quite a few of the House members. According to him it was cool and dim, with a rippling light from the water. And the people were all cunning and ambitious, and some were downright sneaky and mean. It wasn't the kind of place she'd fit at all, she knew almost instinctively. And contrary to what Addie thought, she didn't think she could possibly be a Ravenclaw, either. Intelligence had never mattered so much to her - as long as people were good and kind or noble and brave she didn't much care what books they'd read or how much they knew. She loved to read, yes, but her interests ranged more toward adventures and fairy tales than Hogwarts: A History.  
Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, it seemed, were the most likely candidates. And, she decided, she would be happy with either one.

Eventually, she decided she'd had enough of flying Quaffles and questionable jokes. Placing Milton safely on her shoulder, she said goodbye to her brother and his friends and ventured out into the corridors, passing compartment after full compartment. Some she recognized as her brothers' friends. Some, she didn't recognize at all. Finally, at the very end of the train she found a compartment empty but for a boy about her own age, who stared through the window. There was a book open in his lap but he wasn't reading it. A big black cat with the greenest eyes Bonnie had ever seen blinked up at her and Milton. The kitten blinked back at her with his little golden eyes and mewed questioningly. At the noise, and the deeper meow of his own cat, the boy looked up.

He was the kind of boy who promised to be quite good-looking as he grew older, in an imperious, regal way. And though Bonnie didn't know enough to think this, herself, she did think that he looked something like the young prince in some of the darker stories. His hair was neatly cut and combed, black as the fur of his cat. His features were elegant, regal even, his eyes a strange amber-brown, like the brandy her father sometimes drank. His mouth was thin, his nose sharp, an odd collection of features that, if not arranged correctly, could have been quite disastrous.  
"Would you mind if I joined you?" Bonnie asked. "It's just so loud everywhere else."  
Unexpectedly, the boy smiled.  
"Please," he said, and gestured to the seat across from him. Relieved, Bonnie sat down cross-legged, her long uniform skirt covering her knees. She put Milton in her lap, and looked up at the boy.  
"I'm Bonnie Hargrave," she said, wondering why he was dressed as if he were going to a funeral - he hadn't yet changed into his school clothes, and was wearing a finely-tailored suit of very dark grey, with a black tie. The only jolt of color were two small ruby cufflinks that flashed deep red when the light shifted. "I'm a first year."  
"I'm one, as well," the boy said, though he seemed reluctant to tell her his name. Though he seemed to watch her carefully as he said it, he finally relented. "I'm Ian," he said. "Ian Rosier."

Rosier. Rosier...why did it sound familiar?  
And then, suddenly, she remembered. Her parents' voices, discussing the war. Rosier had been a Death Eater, along with Avery and Mulciber, other names she'd heard discussed quietly.  
The boy sitting across from her was the son of a Death Eater.

"If you don't want to sit here anymore," he said quietly, "I understand."  
"Did you know your father?" Bonnie asked, with more boldness than she thought she had. She covered her mouth immediately after. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer..."  
"No, it's...it's fine." The boy ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down. "Dad...wasn't around much," he said. "And I was nine when he died. My mum was crazy for him, though. Really missed him when he was gone, which was always. When he died, she...my Aunt Druella brought me to the station. Mum hardly leaves the house anymore."

Bonnie felt a sting of pity for the boy - she, who had grown up in a happy, loving family and a pretty country house with sunlight everywhere, could hardly imagine the dark, shadowy mansion this boy must have inhabited, the cold people. The ghost of his father and what he had done.  
"Well," Bonnie said, "You're not a Death Eater, are you?"  
The boy shook his head slowly.  
"Good. See, then?" She smiled at him and he, caught off guard, smiled back. "I quite like you, already. Who's this?"  
She pointed to the cat, who blinked at her with those beautiful green eyes.  
"Matilda," the boy said. The cat's ears flicked back at the mention of her name. "My mum's cat had kittens, and she's the only one we kept. Who is yours?"  
"Milton," said Bonnie. "I got him when we went to Diagon Alley."

The snack cart came, and the two bought Chocolate Frogs and licorice wands, Bertie Bott's and Ice Mice as well as some Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties to share. They spent the long train ride talking and laughing, warming up to each other quickly in the way children often do. Sooner than Bonnie thought possible, they had pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade Station.  
"Firs' years, this way!"  
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she turned to her companion.

Hogwarts!


	2. Hufflepuff!

"Let's go!" She said breathlessly. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled. They had been told to leave their luggage and pets on the train - they'd be brought up to Hogwarts separately. So they left their cats in their carriers and their trunks on the racks and, propelled mostly by Bonnie's excitement, emerged onto the Hogsmeade platform. A man, larger than any Bonnie had ever seen, and hairy, held a lantern and called the first years to him. A flock of eleven year olds bumped shoulders and waited anxiously. The only noted exception was a pair of twins with bright-red hair. Bonnie could only assume that these were the Weasley twins Addie had told her about.

The man, Bonnie knew, was Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Alan had told her about him, and walked her through the boat ride to the castle.  
"It's really quite nice," he had told her. "Nicer than the carriages, even. And don't worry too much about the Sorting, it doesn't hurt or anything..."

Ian and Bonnie stepped into a boat with three others - a good-natured boy with bright grey eyes and two other girls. The girls talked between themselves, leaving Ian, Bonnie, and the grey-eyed boy to themselves.  
"I'm Cedric," the boy said, shaking hands firmly with both. "Cedric Diggory."  
"I'm Bonnie, and this is Ian." Ian smiled at her, shy and grateful that she'd successfully avoided his last name by not giving hers.  
"Good to meet you," Cedric said. Bonnie liked him immediately, for his manners and his kindness. Ian didn't talk much, but replied when spoken to. All fell silent as their boat sailed itself toward the magnificently gleaming castle.

It was everything Bonnie had dreamed of, and more. Better. The students were ushered off of the boats and into the castle where they were greeted by the stern figure of Professor McGonagall, Alan's favorite teacher and Head-of-House.  
"Welcome, first years," she said. "to Hogwarts School. In a few moments you will pass through the doors of the Great Hall and join your future classmates for the Sorting Ceremony. There, you will all be Sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."  
A hushed sort of muttering went through the crowd of first years as fragments of family Houses and guesses of where they would be Sorted swept around. It did not cease until Professor McGonagall clapped her hands together.  
"Follow me, please," she said. The doors to the Great Hall opened, and immediately the first-years were fixed with the curious stares of the upper classes. Shoulder to shoulder they filed through until they all stood before a stool and a curious, shabby old hat that sat atop it.

Professor McGonagall quickly silenced the Great Hall, and held up a scroll of parchment.  
As they watched, the hat opened it's mouth - a great rip near the brim - and began to sing.  
Bonnie did not pay much attention to the words, she was too busy staring around the Great Hall. The high, enchanted ceilings that displayed the thin grey clouds that played hide-and-seek with the stars. The floating candles. The torches. The tables of each House, differentiated by the colors of the students' robes. When the hat had finished singing, Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, and held up a scroll of parchment.  
"When I call your name," she said, "You will join me here at the front, where you will sit on this stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will sort you into one of the four houses. When you have been sorted, you will join your House for our welcome feast. Now...  
Abrams, Stella!"

Bonnie watched carefully, suddenly glad that her surname did not begin with "A". She wouldn't like to be first, not at all.  
Stella Abrams was a tall, thin girl who moved with a dancer's grace toward the stool. When she had been seated, ankles crossed and hands folded, Professor McGonagall lowered the hat onto her head. A few moments passed before the hat shouted: RAVENCLAW!  
The Ravenclaw table burst into applause as Stella, smiling, skipped over to join them.

One by one, students were sorted. Bonnie lost track of them. "Davies, Roder" was sorted into Ravenclaw, and then "Diggory, Cedric!" was called. Cedric smiled at her as he excused himself politely, other students complying as he moved between them. He sat on the stool, hands gripping the sides, as McGonagall lowered the hat.  
His was the quickest yet. No sooner had the hat touched the tips of his ears than it bellowed: HUFFLEPUFF!  
There was a flurry of yellow as the Hufflepuffs cheered, happily welcoming their newest member.  
Edwards, Terrence. SLYTHERIN. A burst of activity from the green-and-silver table. It seemed to take forever to sort through the Es, the Fs, the Gs. Finally, _finally_, McGonagall called her name into the crowd of first years.

"Hargrave, Bonnie!"  
There was a whoop from the Gryffindor table from Alan, who seemed to be quickly hushed. But it eliminated the fear that had been slowly building inside of her, and allowed Bonnie to smile as she perched neatly on the edge of the stool, her feet resting on the bottom rung. She felt McGonagall slide the hat over her head.  
And then there was a soft voice in her ear that made it jump at its first syllable. Faintly, she heard the chuckles of the students, but the voice quickly overpowered them.  
"Well, well, well," the hat said, "Another Hargrave child, hmm? Your brother Alan proved quite a surprise. The first Gryffindor in your family for generations. Hmm. A gentle, quiet one you are. Uncomplicated. Plenty of intelligence, yes, but no thirst for it...cleverness, but no ambition for it. No thirst for power, and you don't care much for proving yourself, do you? Prefer to be on the sidelines rather than the center of attention, hmm?"  
Yes, Bonnie thought. Yes, that sounded right.  
"Brave, but not daring. Honorable. Loyal, and kind to a fault. You'd better watch that, my dear, it may one day do you harm...stubborn as the day is long and fiercely protective of those you love. It seems, little Bonnie, that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are the options open to us."  
The hat fell silent for a moment, and Bonnie felt the nerves close up her throat. What if the hat couldn't decide? What if she was thrown out of Hogwarts before she'd even begun? What if...?  
"Not to worry, not to worry," the hat said. "It seems to me that you truly belong in...HUFFLEPUFF!"  
Hufflepuff! Her mother's house. Cedric's new House. She found her new friend's smile easily in the crowd as she ran to join her new Housemates. Sitting between Cedric and an older girl with bright-pink hair, Bonnie settled in to watch the rest of the Sorting.

"Johnson, Angelina" was soon sorted into Gryffindor, as was "Jordan, Lee!"  
A few more students were placed in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, until a very few students were left standing at the front, the Weasley twins among them.  
"Gryffindor, for sure," the pink-haired girl beside Bonnie said, as if she'd had the same thought as Bonnie.  
"Don't be so sure, Nymphadora" replied a boy across from her. "It doesn't always run in families."  
"It does with the Weasleys," the girl replied. "And don't call me that, I told you...!"  
She turned to Bonnie and rolled her eyes.  
"I hate my name," she explained. "Nymphadora. What a wretched name for a child, right? Most people call me Tonks." Her eyes were dark and twinkling with both good nature and mischief. Bonnie, though rather taken aback by the girl's vividness...of hair and of personality...nevertheless couldn't help but like her.  
"I'm Bonnie," she replied softly. Tonks nodded.  
"Your brother's the year below me. Prefect, right?"  
Bonnie nodded.  
"I was never made Prefect," she said with a shrug.  
"She causes too much trouble," the boy who had called her Nymphadora said with a wink. "Now be quiet, you lot, and let's watch the Sorting."  
They settled down, just in time for "Rosier, Ian!" to be called.  
A hush seemed to fall, just slightly. There had been other children of Death Eaters, of course. But Rosier was more well-known than most, a martyr to the Death Eaters and a particularly nasty sort to the rest.  
"Rosier," muttered Tonks darkly. "I'll bet you anything he's in Slytherin."  
But the hat didn't seem so sure. It took longer than it had even for Bonnie. Finally, after many long minutes, it confirmed Tonks' theory and, with a last glance at the only friend he'd yet made, Ian walked over to join the Slytherins.  
"There's not a witch or wizard went bad that isn't in Slytherin," Tonks muttered darkly before Dumbledore rose to speak.

Ian hadn't seemed so bad, Bonnie thought, but a flicker of doubt overcame her. Thankfully, her thoughts were soon taken over by the singing of the Hogwarts' song and the appearance of heaps and heaps of delicious food.  
When she was finally full and very sleepy, the Hufflepuff Prefect stood and called them to her. She was a pretty girl with wavy auburn hair and rosy cheeks who led them out of the Great Hall and down many flights of stairs until they came to a hallway containing a painting of fruit which, the Prefect explained, led to the kitchens.  
"One of the many good things about being in Hufflepuff," she said with a wink. She led them to a stack of barrels, and pointed out one two from the bottom in the middle of the second row.  
"This is the barrel that will let you in to the Common Room," she said. "Just tap it with your wand to the rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff," like so..." She tapped her wand against the barrel, taptap taptaptap. "If a non-Hufflepuff gets in," she said as the passage opened, "The barrels will burst and absolutely drench them in vinegar. Quite easy to find them, after, by their smell...and Hufflepuffs are not above ridiculing imposters."

She led them through the tunnel and into the coziest-looking room that Bonnie had ever seen. It was large and round and quite low-ceilinged. For the first time, Bonnie was particularly thankful for her petiteness. There were large, round windows quite high on the ceiling which, according to the Prefect, looked out across dandelions and rippling grass during the day, and let loads of sunshine into the room. At the moment, though, they were quite dark - the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace gave the place a welcoming glow, however, reflecting off of the burnished copper touchings of the furniture. The furniture was all plush and inviting, and there were plants everywhere - some even burst into soft, sweet song when the first years arrived, and others which danced happily in the light of the fire.

"Through these doors, you'll find your dormitories," the first years were told as their Prefect gestured to big, round doors in the wall. "Boys on the left, girls on the right. If you need anything, just come find me - my name's Rosie Montgomery, and I'm a sixth year. Welcome to Hogwarts!"  
The doors to the dormitories were opened, and Bonnie bid goodnight to Cedric as boys and girls split off.  
Her first night at Hogwarts. And tomorrow, everything would really, truly begin.

**((Don't worry - I know first year isn't very exciting, and we won't spend very long in it. These first three chapters are set-up. The real action will begin by Chapter Four.)) **


	3. The Beginning

The first year girls did not take long to settle into their dormitory. There were six of them: Bonnie, Patricia, Margaret (who preferred Maggie), and the twins, Thalia and Tess.  
Beyond the usual shyness and social fumbling of meeting for the first time, the six girls seemed to get along well. Thalia and Tess played off of each other fabulously - Thalia was confident, bubbly, and tended to be loud. Tess was poised and just as confident, with witty responses to all of Thalia's outbursts. Both had the graceful strength of a dancer, smooth dark hair, and blue eyes. Patricia was short and chubby, the kind of excess that would stretch out as she grew and would change her shape. But poor Patricia didn't know that yet, and her lack of self confidence made her shy and retiring. She stumbled over words and seemed happy enough just to listen. Maggie was beautiful, even strikingly so, with thick curls of dark red-brown hair and warm brown eyes.

They seemed to fit in the dorm room, like pieces of a puzzle clicking happily into place. From the patchwork quilts that covered the beds to the warm glow of the copper lamps, the place felt like home. The girls soon warmed to each other, sharing stories and secrets by the light of the lamps reflecting off of the copper bedwarmers. Bonnie could only imagine that she would bless their existence, come winter - she had heard that the castle could get quite cold.

The girls finally fell asleep, after hours of laughter and talk and shared leftover treats from the Hogwarts Express. Bonnie curled up with Milton, who purred beneath her chin. His tiny head butted up against her neck and vibrated with the force of his purrs. Girl and cat slept soundly through until morning, when breakfast called her and the promise of adventure, and maybe mice, called the cat.

Her first week of classes went by so quickly that Bonnie barely had time to write home. She did send a letter, shorter than she had intended, with the promise to write more, later. She only had one or two classes, most days. Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions on Mondays, Charms on Tuesdays, History of Magic and Transfiguration on Thursdays and Potions on Fridays. Wednesdays were the busiest, beginning with Herbology and ending with Astronomy, with Flying and Potions somewhere in the middle.

She quickly learned just what she was good at, and what would take work. Potions and Herbology came naturally to her. Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic didn't give her much trouble at all, but Transfiguration and Astronomy...she foresaw many hours of studying in her future, as far as those subjects were concerned.

Bonnie quickly became friends with her Housemates, especially with those in her year. Cedric and his friends soon became attached to their little group of girls until the boundaries between friend groups disappeared entirely. The time until Christmas passed in just the blink of an eye, Christmas break went even faster, and then there was just the one stretch of time left until summer.

Much to her dismay, Bonnie didn't see much of Ian Rosier. He disappeared into his House and she into hers. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, like Slytherin and Gryffindor, rarely mixed. To see a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin together was far more common, with the note of ambition in both Houses, a kind of overlapping of some values.  
Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, however, seemed to get along quite well. She was soon friends with several Gryffindor first years, as well as with some of Alan's third-year friends. The time spent with her brother and his friends was happy, and Bonnie grew to not mind their rowdiness quite so much.

The time she did manage to spend with Ian was quiet - hours spent studying in the library, or walking the grounds every once in awhile. But by the end of the year, their communication had tapered off almost entirely, relegated only to glances from Ian and quick smiles from Bonnie.  
He was the first person in her year that she'd met, and she was sorry to see him go. But her new friends from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor more than made up for the one Slytherin boy who fell through the cracks.

First, second, and third years passed with very little fanfare. Bonnie grew, of course, and learned more than she ever could have imagined. As she'd expected, Transfiguration and Astronomy proved difficult, but she could manage them if she worked hard enough. It was Herbology and Potions that she lived for. Professor Sprout took an instant liking to her - as a Hufflepuff and as a talented Herbology student. And while Professor Snape didn't seem to like her more than he liked any other Hufflepuff (which was very little), he grudgingly gave her the top marks she worked for and didn't, at least, single her out in class.  
She didn't take to flying, hated being suspended so high above the ground. When the first-year lessons were over, she was relieved, and filled in the gap with Care of Magical Creatures when electives came around.

Ian Rosier fell off of her radar entirely. He didn't reappear until their fifth year, when students were turned to stone and Hogwarts was in an uproar.


	4. Sunny Little Bonnie Hargrave

Fifteen year old Bonnie Hargrave was asleep in the sunshine on the warmest day of the summer, surrounded by letters and with a medium sized black-and-white cat perched on her stomach. Some schoolbooks lay open beside her, pages ruffling in the warm breeze.  
"Bonnie!"  
She blinked her way to wakefulness, squinting into the sunlight and trying to figure out who had called her.  
It didn't take long. Within moments, Milton had flown and she was towed to her feet by her older brother, Alan.  
"Ow! Alan, what the..."  
"We're going to Diagon Alley."  
"What? But Mum already got the books, what..."  
Alan shrugged.  
"Said something about you needing new robes and having totally forgotten. She's caving and bringing all of us, even Poppy. And Ger's going to meet us there."  
Gerard, now nineteen, had been working for the Ministry since his graduation from Hogwarts, in the International Magical Office of Law. He'd been quite successful, too, or so he would have them believe. Bonnie didn't ask too many questions when it came to Ger's job - it made her eyes glaze over to listen to him.

She gathered the papers together, tucking them back into their envelopes - a letter from Tonks about Auror life, and summer letters from Cedric and the rest. There was still one she hadn't opened, written in emerald green ink in a cramped, spiky hand. This one she tucked in the back pocket of her shorts before pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

At fifteen, Bonnie looked, more than ever, like a lighter-haired version of her mother. She was petite and slender, almost compact in appearance with the look of a teenage girl who cared about her appearance but liked to pretend she didn't.  
And who did, indeed, sometimes forget that she did.  
Her hair had grown long and was, much to her brother's delight, was the color of a peeled banana. Which he, of course, liked to point out with such delightful nicknames as "Banana Head". She had a fringe that fell across her forehead, and which was often hastily brushed to one side.

"Bonnie!"  
Alan had made it to the garden gate before she could deposit her books inside the back door, and was impatiently waiting there for her.  
"Hold on a moment, I'm coming," she called back as she set her books and letters on the table by the back door. After she called good-bye to her father in his study, she dashed back outside and through the gate, catching up with Alan. They'd be driving to London which, thankfully, was not too long a drive. Poppy grinned as she caught sight of her sister. She was eight years old, now, and looked the female version of Ger. But it was Alan she seemed to mimic in mannerisms.

Madam Malkin's was, as always, mind-numbingly boring. Bonnie fought to stand still as the little witch bobbed here and there, sticking pins into the sleeves and hem of Bonnie's robes. When Bonnie felt like a porcupine, Madam Malkin finally declared herself finished. Clarisse, already looking tired, set her two older children loose.  
"Meet us at Fortescue's at four o'clock," she told them, taking Poppy by the hand. "Ger should be there by then. And be good."  
"Of course, mum," Alan said. He kissed her cheek and took off like a shot, disappearing into the crowds within moments.  
"Probably off to find Alicia Spinnet," Bonnie said, and rolled her eyes. Clarisse merely smiled.  
"All the more reason for him to be good," she said, and kissed the top of Bonnie's head. "Off you go, now. Have fun."

Bonnie found herself in the Potions supply store, looking over ingredients with a critical eye. Most of them were overpriced, and she wondered if she could convince the owner to lower it.  
"Bonnie Hargrave?"

The voice was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It was male, but not Cedric or any of her other friends. This voice was darker. Smoother, in a way. More musical, as if the speaker had thought of every word and cadence before he spoke.  
When she turned around, it was to Ian Rosier's brandy-colored eyes.  
"Ian?"  
He smiled. A crooked, hesitant smile.  
"Haven't spoken with you in a while," he said.  
"Not since first year, I know!" She smiled in return. Compared to his glimmer of a smile, hers was a full-on sunburst. "It's good to see you."  
He looked startled, as if he didn't quite believe her.  
"It's good to see you too, Bonnie. Are you looking forward to Hogwarts?"  
"Of course! I'm so excited, I just can't wait to go back...oh, and I made Prefect!"  
Though his smile did not reappear he seemed pleased, if distantly.  
"Good," he said. "I'm glad.

She had never known a more awkward silence. Then:  
"I was hoping we could see more of each other, this year," he said. "I didn't know you very well, but I think you were the best friend I had at Hogwarts."  
She wondered if this loneliness was self imposed - with a name like Rosier, she was sure he could have found friends among certain crowds of Slytherins quite easily.  
"Not that I don't have any," he said, as if he had read her mind. "It's just...we're all too much the same. I miss sunny little Bonnie Hargrave."  
She turned pink. She could feel it in her cheeks.  
"Of course we can be friends," she said finally, smiling up at him (when had he grown so tall...?). "As I recall, you were the one who stopped coming to the library, first year."  
"Yes," he said, and smiled sadly. "I was different, then."  
"As was I," Bonnie said, as she gathered what ingredients she could. Haggling, she decided, wasn't worth the effort.  
"I'd noticed," Ian said. "You're brighter now. Happier, I daresay. More confident."  
"You noticed all of that?"  
"Like I said," Ian responded, catching her gaze, "I missed sunny little Bonnie Hargrave. As beautiful as stars are, ones does get tired of the dark."

Her purchases wrapped and in her grasp, Bonnie turned to him with amusement.  
:What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.  
Ian shrugged. As always, he was impeccably dressed, from his perfectly-fitted shirt to his shiny black shoes. He put his hands in his pockets and walked with her to the front of the store. Beside him, Bonnie felt small and young - a strange feeling, considering that they were the same age. In her denim shorts and loose white peasant-shirt, her simple sandals...it was hard not to feel that way.  
"I'd better go," he said finally. "My aunt will be looking for me. Will you sit with me on the Hogwarts Express, Bonnie? Same compartment as first year."  
Bonnie looked at him for a long time, trying to put the pieces of him that she knew together. When she realized she couldn't, not yet, she was intrigued.  
"Sure," she replied slowly. "I'd like that."  
"So would I."  
To her surprise he took her hand, bowed over it, and kissed it.  
"Good-day, Miss. Hargrave."  
Was this a joke? She wondered, watching him walk away down Diagon Alley. He didn't once turn back. Who was this? And why did he seem to think he was some country gentleman out of a novel? Bonnie shook her head, glanced at her watch, and took off down the street. Her simple, happy, light family would be waiting for her with strawberry ice cream. She could forget Ian Rosier and his warm, brandy-colored eyes. At least until September First.


	5. Rivers and Brooks

There were only two Hargrave children going to Hogwarts, for now. Ger was too old, Poppy too young. The goodbye routine had changed. Now, they said goodbye to their mother and little sister at home, and their father took them to the platform. This year was no different. They arrived by ten thirty, as always, and Robert helped his daughter with her luggage. Finally, having said their goodbyes, Alan and Bonnie boarded the train.  
"Can't believe it's my last time doing this," he said with a sigh as they walked among the compartments, greeting old friends who poked their heads out to say hello.  
"Getting sentimental all of a sudden, Alan?"  
"No, it's just...it's weird, you know?"  
She attacked her brother with a hug that he couldn't dispel. Rather than trying though, much to her surprise, he returned it. He was so much taller than her that his hug lifted her feet from the ground.  
"Thanks, Bonnie-Bug," he whispered, the old childhood nickname coming out to play again.  
"Any time, Alan." She grinned broadly, and he returned with his usual, smaller grin.  
"Shouldn't you be going, little Prefect?" Alan asked, his smile broadening.  
"Oh! Right!" Bonnie cried, skipping backward a bit almost immediately. "Thanks, Alan, see you!"  
She waved and began to walk, very quickly, toward the Prefect compartment. Few of them were already there - she and her brother were one of the first on the train. But she wasn't the only one in the compartment.  
Ian Rosier sat there, the Prefect's badge gleaming on his chest (when did it get so broad? she wondered), smirking at her expression.

"You're a Prefect?"  
"That is why I'm here, yes."  
His voice, as always, was slow and smooth, like honey. And deep. A strange, fitting voice for his eyes.  
"Oh. I thought...nevermind."  
She blushed and took a seat across from him, still in her Muggle jeans and scoop-necked shirt. Without realizing, they had matched their current positions to first year - Bonnie with her pretzel-crossed legs, Ian sitting formally straight. The two cats were the only things missing.

They sat in silence until the others began to arrive, Cedric Diggory taking a seat next to Bonnie and stretching an arm out along the back of the seat behind her. Ian raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing, and Bonnie did nothing in return. Cedric had always been easily affectionate, in a way that was more brotherly and comforting than anything else. Bonnie had, in fact, figured it out - it was when he wasn't openly affectionate with a girl that something was up. She'd noticed it when, during third year, he'd been briefly and awkwardly stand-offish around Maggie. Luckily, though perhaps not for him, it hadn't worked out. Maggie had soon taken up with a boy from Ravenclaw, and Cedric moved on after a little while.  
All told, the arm meant nothing. She'd long ago adopted Cedric as a third brother, and he'd taken her as the sister he'd never had. Their relationship was easy, open, and uncomplicated. And Bonnie was eternally grateful that it was.

The female Prefect from Gryffindor arrived shortly, followed by Percy Weasley hand-in-hand with Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater. The male Ravenclaw followed. All that was left was the Slytherin girl.  
Ian rolled his eyes when she finally entered, just in the nick of time with her nose in the air, and sat beside him.

They listened to the Head Boy and Girl for what seemed like hours. The Head Boy this year was from Ravenclaw, the Head Girl from Gryffindor. And she could tell by their continued glances and small, knowing smiles that they were a lot closer than simply being Head Boy and Girl.  
Bonnie yawned, hiding it behind her hand, and let her head fall on Cedric's shoulder as the Heads continued to talk, outlining duties and meetings and patrols until Bonnie thought their voices should have gone hoarse. She hoped they couldn't tell she was hardly listening, not to the things that didn't apply to her.  
Finally, they released them. They were expected to patrol the corridors every so often but, other than that, they had no other responsibilities until they were to lead the First Years to their common rooms.  
Bonnie was enormously excited for this. To see the wonder in the first year's eyes, to watch them watching her as she tapped the barrels with her wand to lead them into what would be their home for the next seven years.

She stood up and stretched, shook her blonde hair down from its ponytail and put it back up again, more loosely this time.  
"You're sure you're set for the first patrol?" Cedric asked, looking partly worried and partly guilty. "I told Thalia I'd help her with the Ancient Runes translation, I don't know why she picked that class up..."  
Bonnie just laughed.  
"Oh, go on, Cedric, I'm just fine! Thal's going to need all the help she can get."  
Cedric grinned and squeezed her shoulders.  
"Thanks, Bon. I'll see you later!"  
"Bye, Ced."

The rest of the Prefects had scattered along the length of the Hogwarts Express, leaving only Bonnie and Ian in the compartment.  
Of course.  
"So. Are you and Diggory happy, then?"  
Bonnie tilted her head at him, like a confused puppy or a parrot who'd just heard a new word.  
"Me and Dig...oh! Me and Ced? No! No, no. He's like...he's like another brother to me. He's like that with almost everyone. He's my best friend, but...no. Just no."  
Ian looked skeptical, and, for some reason, almost angry. Bonnie shrugged it off.  
"Well," she said, when it seemed like silence had permanently taken over, "Guess we'd better go do the first patrols, then?"  
Ian nodded and joined her. A silent, mysterious patrol partner. When they'd finished, and were nearing Hogwarts, Bonnie fulfilled her promise to Ian and sat again in one of the last compartments.

"Did you receive my letter?" He asked finally, Matilda perched on his knees at last, blinking her enormous green eyes.  
"Your letter...?"  
And then she remembered - the envelope with the green-ink address, the cramped, spiky hand.  
"Oh, goodness, I'm an idiot! I did, but...I'm so sorry! I never got a chance to read it, my brother interrupted, and we went to Diagon Alley, and..."  
Ian listened to her babble, obviously amused.  
"It's quite alright," he said finally. "Really, it is. Don't worry about it."  
She smiled at him sheepishly from beneath the fringe of hair over her forehead.  
They were like a brook and a river, she decided. She was the brook, always babbling and stumbling over herself, uncomplicated, her secrets tossed to the sun and discarded. He was the river, deep and unreadable, with who-knew-how-many buried secrets.  
Just as she was about to strike up some new conversation, the train whistled.  
"Oh! I'm not even dressed yet!" She said, hopping up at disturbing Milton, who'd fallen asleep beside her. He blinked at her, drowsy and unamused, used to her antics by now.  
Quickly, she grabbed her school clothes and disappeared, arriving back in the compartment in extraordinary time.  
Ian blinked.  
"That was quite quick," he remarked when she returned.  
Bonnie was hastily smoothing her hair back again, throwing it into a quick braid.  
"My family tends to move at the speed of light," she said. "You get used to it, after a while."  
"I would assume so."

Bonnie knew he wasn't looking for pity, not in the slightest, but she couldn't help it - she felt sorry for him, just as she had in first year. Funny, how things had moved in such a circle.

They lost each other in the crowds and ended up in separate carriages - Bonnie thankfully found a group of her friends and hopped in their carriage.  
She, unlike Ian, could not see the thestrals.

Maggie and the twins were there, along with Cedric and some other boys from their House and year - Asa Henry and Berry Cleary. The little knot of friends continued on together into the Great Hall, when they'd reached the castle, and were soon joined by Patricia. Her round face was glowing with excitement at the sight of her friends.  
As could be expected, Patricia's growth had sorted out the excess chubbiness of her earlier years. She was curvier, now, but more importantly seemed at peace with herself. Hufflepuff had an odd, happy way of making that happen. Maggie and the twins hadn't changed much, but for growth - Thalia and Tess were easier to tell apart, now. Their facial features were slightly different, and Tess's eyes were a shade darker than Thalia's. Maggie squealed happily and threw her arms around her two nearest friends, who just happened to be Bonnie and Asa.  
"Fifth year," she said, "Can you believe it!"  
"Yes, Mags," Asa said, ducking out from under her arm. "Just because you're a Hufflepuff doesn't mean you have to squeal, though. I think I've gone deaf!"  
"Oh, lighten up," Maggie said, and swatted his arm as they found seats at the Hufflepuff table.

Bonnie quickly found Alan sitting with Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. In other words, most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She waved before she settled in, her back to the Slytherin table.  
Her excitement to lead the first years after the feast was mounting.

Finally, Professor McGonagall appeared with hat and stool, and then disappeared again to lead the first years in. As always, the hat sang its song. And, as always, Bonnie didn't pay it much attention. She was interested in the people, not the hat, after all.  
Her interest in every single one of the first years dwindled after Creevey, Colin, had been sorted into Gryffindor. Soon, she only really payed attention when one was sorted to her house. Soon, Weasley, Ginevra had been sorted into Gryffindor House, where she went to join her brothers, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. That had been last year's sorting, and quite an interesting one it had been. The Hufflepuffs had gained Susan Bones, Amelia Bones' niece, as well as several others. Ernie McMillian was not exactly Bonnie's favorite Hufflepuff, but Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley were both sweet, as was shy Megan Jones. The real excitement, of course, had come from the Sorting of Harry Potter, when all Houses held their breath in anticipation.

The Hufflepuffs hadn't really expected Potter to be Sorted to them. But it was fun to wonder, nonetheless.

When the Sorting had finished to mild applause, McGonagall, looking rather more upset than usual, took the hat and stool away for another year. Following Dumbledore's customary opening words, the feast began in earnest.

Bonnie found herself suddenly ravenous - she hadn't even noticed she was hungry, until the smell of the food had found her. She gave herself generous portions of Shepherd's Pie and vegetables, along with a goblet of cold pumpkin juice.  
"Not to worry you," Maggie said, her plate already empty and pushed to the side (she always ate quickly and neatly, more like a military operation than anything else) and leaning into her forearms on the table, "But there's someone from Slytherin watching you."

She didn't have to turn around to know who it was, but she did anyway, if only to prove her suspicions true. Sure enough, gold-brown eyes jumped away and Ian Rosier turned to engage another Slytherin in impromptu conversation.  
"Oh, it's just Ian," she said. "I've known him since first year."  
Maggie frowned and pulled her lower lip between her teeth.  
"I remember him, now," she said slowly. "You used to study with him in the library. Are you...talking...again?"  
Bonnie nodded.  
"Is there something wrong with that?" She asked pleasantly, tipping her head slightly to the side. Maggie's brown eyes narrowed as they glanced over Bonnie's shoulder, then locked with her friend's gaze.  
"No," she said finally, her voice sure and steady. "But...be careful. Okay? My family knows some of his relatives, and...well, they're kind of shifty, Bon."  
"Oh, he's not bad at all," Bonnie said stubbornly. "Thank you, Maggie, but I think I'll take my chances this time."  
Maggie looked at her carefully for a moment and then, with a shrug that seemed to say "your funeral," as she lifted a slice of apple pie onto her place for dessert. Bonnie happily tucked into her trifle, watching the first years sample a little bit of everything as if they'd never seen such food before and never would again. She remembered that feeling, remembered floating on a happy, too-full, sleepy cloud for the rest of the night. She imagined she might have to tug them, bobbing, along the corridor like fat, lazy balloons. The thought made her grin, just before the plates cleared themselves.

"I'll see you all later," she said, standing with Cedric to collect the first years. They were just as overfull and just as sleepy as Bonnie had imagined they would be. One girl was blinking slowly and swaying on her feet. Bonnie put a hand gently on her shoulder, and smiled down at her. Had they ever been that small? she wondered. Surely they must have been.  
"Alright, first years!" she said, looking at the little flock. "I'm Bonnie Hargrave, and this is Cedric Diggory. We're your Prefects this year."  
"We don't bite," Cedric said with a wink. "So feel free to ask us anything."  
Bonnie agreed with a nod.  
"If you'll follow us, we'll lead you to the Hufflepuff Common Rooms. If you don't...well, let's not take that option, okay?"  
A few of them giggled, and Cedric and Bonnie led their little group through the corridors and down the many flights of stairs to the stack of barrels, which Bonnie explained as she tapped her wand to the rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff" on the appointed barrel. The tunnel opened, and Bonnie led the way through with Cedric bringing up the rear.

Bonnie watched with satisfaction as the eleven-year-olds took in their cozy Common Room, pleased with the glowing, homey scene.  
"Now, dormitories are this way..."

Once Cedric and Bonnie were sure that the first years were tucked away in their dormitories for the night, they both flopped back into a plush black couch. The yellow armchairs on either side made sure that the room wasn't made somber by the darker pieces, and all of the glowing brass and happy plants did the rest of the job. Milton, already purring, curled up in the crook of Bonnie's curled legs.  
"I heard you and Maggie earlier," Cedric said, stroking the leaf of a plant which curled and uncurled happily at his touch.  
"About what?" Bonnie asked, yawning, as the first of the older Hufflepuffs began to arrive.  
"Ian Rosier."  
Bonnie rolled her eyes, leaning her head against the back of the couch.  
"Oh, Ced, not you too..."  
"No," he said, carefully. "I think Maggie's right. You should be careful. He is a Rosier, after all. But...he's not a bad sort. He doesn't seem to be, anyway. Don't let other people's suspicions get in your way."  
Bonnie smiled and reached for Cedric's hand, gave it a squeeze, and then let go.  
"Thanks, Ced."

Soon, they were joined by other fifth, sixth, and seventh years. The earlier years all headed to bed almost immediately, to unpack and prepare for the next day. But in the Common Room, someone had brought a barrel of Butterbeer - how, she wasn't sure - and began to pass the warming, sweet liquid around in foaming mugs. For those still with an appetite, one of the seventh years had set out cookies she'd baked at home.  
The classes they had the next day were sure to be easy, introductions to the year and lectures on the importance of O.. No one was overly concerned with how late they stayed up or how much Butterbeer they drank, and the common room was full of the older students until very early in the morning. Some even fell asleep on the couches in front of the fire, while others talked about summer trips and future plans. Their little welcome-back party was quiet and cheerful - Professor Sprout didn't tend to care how late there was activity in the Common Room, unless things got out-of-hand, which they rarely did.

Bonnie, Maggie, Patricia and the twins went to bed somewhere passed three, bidding goodnight to those who remained, lost in murmured discussions and sleepy stories.  
Surrounded by the sound of her friends' even breathing and the occasional word uttered in sleep, Bonnie traced the stitching of her patchwork quilt and blinked drowsily at the ceiling, full and content from her meal, with the Butterbeer creating a pleasing, glowing warmth in her belly that seemed to radiate all the way out to her fingertips.  
It was good, so good, to be back.


	6. Invitations

October came, and with it, half of the school caught sick. Madam Pomfrey was constantly doling out doses of Pepperup Potion, and Bonnie was one of the unlucky recipients. Her throat had been sore and she'd been coughing for a solid day before Cedric all but dragged her to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she put a cup of potion into Bonnie's hand. "Almost the entire school, including staff!" she said, watching as Bonnie downed the potion.  
It felt like liquid fire sliding down her throat and pooling in her stomach. She coughed in protest, wincing.  
Smoke immediately began to billow from her ears.  
"I hate that stuff," she muttered, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, as if that could eliminate the stinging remnants of the burning liquid.  
"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said, tight-lipped. "Well. How do you feel?"  
"Better," Bonnie grudgingly admitted. "Much better."  
In fact, she felt cured. There wasn't so much as a tickle in her throat.  
But she wasn't about to admit it.

"Ced?" She asked as they left the Hospital Wing,  
"Yes?"  
"Can you do me a favor, since you dragged me into this mess?"  
Cedric glanced at her slantways.  
"What would that be?"  
"Cover my ears so I'm not billowing smoke all the way to Hufflepuff?"  
Cedric sighed and closed his eyes.  
"You have got to be kidding," he said.  
Bonnie smiled sweetly.  
"You're not kidding. Are you?"  
She shook her head, and watched him watch the smoke pouring from her ears. And then, she watched him decide.  
"Fine," he said. "But you do realize this will look just as ridiculous..."  
"Yes, but now I'm not the only one looking ridiculous, am I?"  
"Wonderful. Just wonderful."  
She grinned, Cedric slapped his hands over her ears, and they made their way like train cars down to the Hufflepuff entrance.  
"Thank goodness that smoke doesn't burn," Cedric said, laughing as they crawled into the Common Room.  
"Thanks, Ced!" she called, stumbling through the Common Room as she made her way toward her dormitory. "You saved me!"  
Cedric shook his head and waved as the blonde disappeared behind the large, round door across the room.

Bonnie threw herself across her bed, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she watched smoke drift up from her head.  
"This," she told the empty room (or not so empty - Milton, and Thalia's cat Emmy both looked up from their respective perches) "Is ridiculous."  
She rolled onto her side, to a curious crunching noise. Scrambling to press herself up on her hands, she found an envelope, now slightly crumpled, had been sitting on her bed.  
She must've narrowly missed it when she'd thrown herself across the bed.  
"Bonnie," it said on the front. "Hufflepuff House, Fifth Year Girl's Dormitory."  
The handwriting was the same as the envelope she'd received over the summer, cramped and spiky. She opened it slowly and pulled out a single piece of paper.  
Bonnie, it read.  
I would very much enjoy your company for the next Hogsmeade trip. If you would care to join me, would you please meet me before departure in the entrance hall?  
Yours,  
Ian Rosier.

His signature was entirely different from his normal handwriting, a great, graceful, swooping thing with little flourish.

Bonnie sighed and let her head flop against the mattress. She'd forgotten about the Hogsmeade trip entirely.  
And if she went with Ian, what would the rest of the students think? What would her friends think?  
ANd why in the world did she care so much?  
"Fine," she mumbled, and shoved her face into her pillow. "Fine, I'll go."  
"Go where?"  
Tess, Thalia, and Patricia had walked in without her noticing them. Bonnie rolled over and looked at them, ears still smoking.  
"Ced finally got you to go to the Hospital Wing, I take it," Patricia said. She sat at the end of Bonnie's bed, leaning against one of the posts. Thalia and Tess both perched on the edge of Maggie's bed, looking pointedly at Bonnie.  
"Go where?" Thalia repeated.  
"Nowhere," Bonnie groaned. She shoved the letter, as yet unseen, beneath her. "Hogsmeade."  
"And why is going to Hogsmeade such a complicated decision?" Tess asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Tess never missed anything.  
"Because someone asked me to go with them."  
"Someone, like a boy?" Patricia asked, grabbing one of Bonnie's feet and shaking it slightly, as if she could extract an answer that way.  
"What do you think, silly goose?" Thalia giggled. She swatted Patricia with a pillow and ducked when the other girl tried to retaliate.  
Bonnie rolled over again, covering her face with her hands.  
"Yes," she said, voice muffled by hands and pillow.  
"Who?" Patricia cried, bouncing back onto the end of Bonnie's bed, "Tell us, Bon, come on!"

In reply, Bonnie grabbed the now-wrinkled envelope and held it, stiff-armed, out to her friends.  
Then covered her face again.  
As she could have guessed would happen the giggles died down and the room went quiet.  
"Ian Rosier?" Tess asked, unbelieving.  
"I knew you were kind of friends with him," Thalia added, "But Hogsmeade..."  
"We're still just friends!" Bonnie retorted, sitting up and turning to face them. "It's just..."  
"A date," Tess said flatly. Maggie, of course, entered just in time to hear the mention of a date.  
"Who has a date?" She asked, all breathless voice and the threat of laughter. "With who? When?"  
"Bonnie, with Ian Rosier, in Hogsmeade."  
"Tess! My life is not a game of Clue!"  
"Clue?"  
Bonnie always forgot that not everyone had Muggle relatives.  
"Muggle murder mystery game? Colonel Mustard in the library with a crowbar? No?"  
The rest looked at her, confused and more than a little amused.  
"Ian Rosier?" Maggie said. "You're going to say no, of course. Right, Bonnie?"  
"She was agreeing to it when we came in," one of the twins said, then slapped her hand across her mouth at Bonnie's pointed stare. "Sorry, Bon."

Bonnie sighed, turning to look at Maggie.  
"He's a friend," she said. "Why would I say no?"  
"Because it's the first big Hogsmeade trip of the year, and everyone will think it's a date? And are you even sure it's not, Bonnie? He very well could think it would be."  
Bonnie didn't have a response to this. She merely snatched the letter back from Maggie's hand, and fell backward into her pillows to stare at the curtains of her four-poster.  
"I just don't see," she said, flinging her arms out to the side, "Why this is anyone's business but mine."  
"Because we're your friends," Maggie responded promptly. Though Bonnie could not see her, she could clearly picture her expression as she said this. "And we don't want you to get hurt. And he's a Slytherin, Bonnie. Not to mention the child of an infamous Death Eater. He took a piece out of Alastar Moody, Bon..."  
"Wouldn't be the first," Bonnie grumbled darkly. Thalia and Patricia giggled, but Maggie and Tess didn't seem quite as amused.  
"Bonnie," Maggie said, "this is serious. Just...know what you're getting yourself into, alright? He won't exactly be an easy friend to have."

Bonnie bit her lip and let her ears smoke instead of replying.  
Despite the obvious displeasure of Maggie and the twins (Patricia, as always, seemed only to want everyone's happiness) Bonnie met Ian Rosier in the entrance hall on the morning of the first trip to Hogsmeade.

It was a perfect autumn day, crisp and cold with a clear blue sky and distant sun. The leaves were in full color, drifting through the air and crunching under shoes.  
And Bonnie was already beginning to regret allowing her friends to help her dress. Maggie, who had let go of her disapprovement long enough to engage in clothing choices, had done most of the work, and the dress Bonnie now found herself wearing, a close-fitting long-sleeved black wool dress that could easily have been worn in the sixties was, in fact, Bonnie's. The black tights were hers, the black boots were Thalia's. The black wool cap was Patricia's, and was her favorite part of the whole getup - Patricia had even done something to her hair so that it fell in soft almost-curly waves. They'd decked her out almost entirely in black, and so it had been up to Bonnie to add the color. Her Hufflepuff scarf, too long for her, was wrapped many times around her neck, and she'd brought a yellow double-breasted coat.  
It had been something she'd bought on a whim, spotted while out with her mother in Muggle London a year or so previously. Much to her mother's apparent chagrin, Bonnie had fallen for it at first sight. Now, she was glad she had.

"You look very nice," Ian said, she thought, rather generously. But she smiled nonetheless, pulling on a pair of black gloves as she joined him.  
"Thanks!" She said, bouncing along beside him as they made their way out onto the grounds. "You don't look bad yourself, Mr. Rosier."  
Ian glanced at her from the corner of his eye and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his grey wool coat. He'd let his hair grow long enough that it now just brushed the upturned collar. It looked quite soft, Bonnie thought before she could catch herself. Quite soft indeed.

With the abnormal amounts of black hidden beneath the yellow coat, Bonnie Hargrave looked like a canary flitting along next to a panther. As Maggie had warned her, people immediately began to talk - she could hear her name on voices she immediately ignored. But she could tell by Ian's shifting eyes that he noticed, too.  
"Listen," he said just as they reached the gates, "You...I'm really very glad you came, but if this is going to make you uncomf..."  
"Ian." She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at the other Hogwarts students. "It's nothing. Let's just...let's go enjoy Hogsmeade, okay?"  
In fact...  
She skipped around until she was standing next to him, facing the gates, and slipped her arm under his, letting her hand rest in the crook of his elbow. Might as well give them something else to talk about, she thought.  
Ian looked more surprised than any of them.  
"Let's go," she said, and tugged him forward.  
"As you wish."

They followed the crowds, who soon became used to their combined presence, down from Hogwarts and into the village of Hogsmeade.


	7. Hogsmeade

The Three Broomsticks was warm and full and inviting, the smell of hot Butterbeer hitting them full-on as they walked through the door.  
Ian led her to a table, just tucked away enough to afford them a kind of privacy.  
"What would you like, dears?" Madam Rosmerta asked.  
"Butterbeer, please!" Bonnie said, as she shrugged out of her coat and took off her cap, scarf, and gloves.  
"And the same for me, thank you," Ian said.  
"Two Butterbeers, on their way."  
"Thank you," Bonnie said, earning a smile from Rosmerta as the landlady made her way back to the bar.  
"What?" Bonnie asked, catching Ian smirking once again.  
"Nothing," he said quickly, turning to drape his coat over the back of his chair. "Are you always this nice? To everybody?"  
Bonnie shrugged.  
"Why shouldn't I be?"  
"Hufflepuffs," Ian said. "Never cease to amaze me."  
Bonnie crossed her arms on the table and leaned into them.  
"That's because you're jealous of our tight-knit friend groups and late-night butterbeer parties."  
"You have those?"  
"Oh, all of the time."  
Bonnie lowered her voice and leaned forward conspiratorially.  
"When we get really crazy," she said, "We even throw in some cookies and Firewhiskey."  
Ian raised his eyebrows at her, just as Madam Rosmerta came back with their Butterbeers.  
Bonnie thanked her again and wrapped her hands around the mug. Three Broomsticks' Butterbeer was one of her favorite parts of Hogsmeade trips.

"What do you do in Slytherin?" She asked before finally taking a sip of the warm, sweet liquid.  
"We're not nearly as much fun as Hufflepuff seems to be," he said. "Though there is a hidden cabinet stocked with elf-made wine and red-currant rum. Usually only opened after exams are through. We're really a very quiet sort."  
Bonnie didn't think she could live with quiet. She wasn't exactly a quiet kind of person. An hour or two on her own in the library was always nice, yes, but after that she always felt a keen longing to find her friends.  
Bonnie Hargrave just was not a solitary animal.

"So," she said, when Ian did not seem willing to continue the House difference discussion, "It's O.W.L year. What are you thinking of doing after Hogwarts?"  
"I suppose it will depend if any place will have me," he said. Ian took a long drink of Butterbeer, swallowed heavily, and stared at a place about Bonnie's right shoulder. "What I really want to do," he said, "Is to work in the Department of Mysteries. But something tells me they wouldn't want me."  
"You can't know that."  
"Bonnie, even you were taken aback when I told you my surname, first year."  
Bonnie ducked her head and stared at the foamy contents of her mug.  
"Rosier," Ian spat. "And they didn't even give me a distinct first name. Evan, Ian."  
The bitterness in his voice cut through even the sweetness of her Butterbeer.  
"I never even knew my father, really," he said, voice darkening by the second. "And yet they expect me to be just like him..."  
His hand around his glass tankard was beginning to tighten dangerously. Bonnie imagined she could almost hear the glass shrieking in panic. Quick as a flash she reached out, brushing her fingers against the tightened hand.  
Startled, he relaxed his grip almost immediately, and she drew her hand back to rest in her lap.  
"Sorry," he muttered, and lifted a shaky hand to smooth his hair. He hadn't lost that habit, she noticed, since she'd first met him.  
"It's not a problem at all," Bonnie assured him. "Anyway, your teachers know you. We have Herbology together - Professor Sprout doesn't often take to Slytherins, but she likes you. She all but told me, when I stayed to help put numbing potion on the Venemous Tentacula..."

Ian seemed to be breathing normally again, and the bemused smile he seemed to wear whenever he was in her company surfaced.  
"You really like Herbology, don't you?"  
Bonnie nodded eagerly.  
"Herbology and Potions are my favorites," she said. "I just...I love helping things to grow. You start off with just this tiny little seed, and soon there's a...a Venemous Tentacula or Hellebore, or Foxgloves..."  
"And then, I take it, your love for the plants led to a greater understanding of how potions work?"  
She nodded again.  
"I don't think Professor Snape quite understands how a Hufflepuff is doing so well in his class," she said, holding back a giggle.  
"Well, then, let me fire your own question back at you," Ian said. He'd finished the last of his Butterbeer, and pushed the mug toward the center of the table. "What are you thinking of doing after Hogwarts?"  
"St. Mungo's Healer," Bonnie said almost immediately. "But...that means I have to get at least an "Exceeds Expectations" in Transfiguration which...may not be possible. I'll probably end up being a Welcome Witch instead."

She looked so put-out that Ian had to struggle just to keep from laughing.  
"Well," he said, when he'd managed to regain a straight face, "You do have time, you know. And, as it happens, Transfiguration is one of my better subjects, while Potions...let's just say, is not my strongsuit. And I'd need an "Exceeds Expectations" in order to be an Unspeakable."  
"Don't you need an "Exceeds Expectations" in nearly everything to be an Unspeakable?"  
"More or less," Ian said, and though he didn't smile she could see some kind of good humor in his eyes. "But what I'd like to propose to you, Bonnie, is a trade: I'll tutor you in Transfiguration, if you'll help me with Potions. In that way, we'll both get "Outstandings" on our O. and will be more than able to get "Exceeds Expectations" when N.E. come around. What do you say?"  
"I'd say...you have a deal."  
"Good. Good, we'll meet on Tuesdays after dinner for Transfiguration, and then we can do patrols after. And we can do Potions on Saturday mornings."  
"Sounds good to me, but, um...where will we meet? I highly doubt that Professor Snape will..."  
"I know a good place for both," Ian said. "I'll show you after dinner on Tuesday."  
"Won't it get in the way of your Quidditch practice?"  
Ian had made Chaser in third year. Bonnie didn't know much about Quidditch, but he seemed quite good.  
Well. He never fell off of his broom, anyway. Which was about as much as Bonnie knew to look for.  
"No, it shouldnt," Ian said. "Flint has fairly solid schedules. Most don't even come near meal-times."

When Bonnie had finished her Butterbeer they paid Madam Rosmerta and headed back into the cold air. The wind had picked up, and was having fun tugging on Bonnie's hair and the tassled ends of her scarf.  
"Oh, let's go to Honeydukes!" Bonnie said with the enthusiasm of a much-younger child. She grabbed Ian's hand and began to tug him in the direction of the shop. "I have to get candy for the Halloween party this...oh! You will come, won't you? It's in the Hufflepuff Common Room, but I'm sure I..."  
"Hold on, there," Ian said, though he still followed behind, his gloved hand caught in hers. "Honeydukes is one thing, the Hufflepuff Common Room is quite another. I don't really think I would be welcome..."  
"Oh, nonsense. They're Hufflepuffs, they'll come to their senses."

Bonnie pulled Ian into Honeydukes, where she immediately ducked into the aisles and aisles of sweets.  
"Chocolate Frogs. Bertie Botts'. Ice Mice. Sugar Quills."  
"How much money are you willing to spend for this Halloween Party?"  
"We've pooled our money. I'll end up spending maybe a Galleon, at the worst."  
Bonnie was so busy loading a hand-basket with sweets that she hardly noticed when Ian disappeared. He did come back moments later, holding a half-unwrapped chocolate bar. Bonnie was sufficiently distracted to not notice the blue spark that jumped from the bar when Ian snapped a piece off.  
"Here," he said, holding the hunk of chocolate out to Bonnie. "Try this, it's really quite good."  
Bonnie looked at it, then up at him, and smiled.  
"Why, thank you," she said, and popped the chocolate in her mouth.  
"Why are you looking at me like -"  
There was a pop as Bonnie finally bit into it, her eyes went wide, and her hair flicked up, as if caught by a sudden breath of wind.  
"Shock-o-Choc?" She shrieked, gasping for breath and swiping at her tongue with her (thankfully ungloved) hand. "Ian Eustace Rosier, I am going to murder you..."  
"Eustace? That's not even my..."  
"I. Don't. Care. Ohhh, just you wait, my friend, I will repay this..."  
"You're crazy."  
The store had gone quiet, every patron looking at them.  
"Sorry," Bonnie mumbled, and ducked behind Ian to grab some caramels, muttering darkly about "Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice..."

"Bonnie," Ian said when Bonnie continued to glare daggers at him, "I'm sorry. Really I am, but you should have seen..."  
Bonnie grinned, throwing poor Ian off his track entirely.  
"Oh, it's quite alright," she said breezily. "The entirety of Hogsmeade now thinks your middle name is Eustace, so I'd call it even." She reached into her bag and pulled out two packages.  
"Don't worry," Bonnie said, handing him a Chocolate Frog, "This one hasn't been tampered with..."  
"Am I really going to have to be on my guard from now on?"  
"Oh, quite. Just remember...I am the one helping you with Potions, now."  
Ian glanced at her warily.  
"They should have put you in Gryffindor, you know, you're crazy."  
"The Hat considered it," Bonnie said, all but bouncing.  
"I am not," Ian said, as they passed Zonko's Joke Shop, "Going in there with you."  
"I wasn't going to ask you to," Bonnie said, happily biting off her frog's head. Then: "Oh, look!" in such an excited tone that Ian leaned closer to look at the card, "I got Helga Hufflepuff! She's my favorite."  
"She would be," Ian replied evenly.  
Bonnie stuck her tongue out at him.

They went back to Hogwarts that evening, cheeks pink with cold, laden with purchases, and laughing - closer friends than when they had left.  
As Bonnie had expected, Maggie, Thalia, Tess, and Patricia were waiting in the dormitory when she arrived.  
"So," Patricia said eagerly as Bonnie changed out of the borrowed clothes and into shorts (Hufflepuff was always quite warm) and an oversized long-sleeved Hufflepuff shirt. Bonnie tilted her head and grinned, despite the black hair elastic clenched in her teeth.  
"It was good," she said as she wrapped the elastic around her ponytail. "Very good, actually. Ian's a wonderful person to be with."  
Thalia and Tess turned to each other and raised their eyebrows.  
"Oh, stop!" Bonnie exclaimed, then pitched Fizzing Whizzbees at them. "I bring you candy, and this is how you treat me."  
She tossed a Chocolate Frog to Patricia and a pack of Sugar Quills to Maggie, then stowed the rest in her trunk, to be saved until Halloween.

The rest of the girls seemed determined that "something more", as they said, had happened at Hogsmeade. All through the week they continued to pepper her with questions. Bonnie was peculiarly happy that they were repotting Mandrakes in Herbology - the earmuffs protected her from more than the ugly plants' shrieks.

The whole castle was gearing up for Halloween, and there were even rumors flying that Dumbledore had employed dancing skeletons for entertainment at the feast.

True to their discussion, Bonnie and Ian met that Tuesday after dinner, and Ian, with a mysterious glint in his eye, led her round and round the same hallway.  
"Ian, what..."  
"You'll see," was all he said.

Much to Bonnie's surprise, a door appeared in the wall.  
"But that...that's never been there before!" She said.  
Ian laughed.  
"It's called the Room of Requirement," he said. "It appears if you have need for it. It's apparently been a broom-cupboard a number of times. And you can find it if you know how to look. Come on."  
He opened the door and let her walk in in front of him.

The room she stepped into was small and filled with books and knick-knacks on shelves along every wall. It was illuminated by a large gold chandelier which hung from the ceiling above a round table made of shiny, dark wood. Two round-backed chairs with arm rests and red seat cushions faced each other across the table, which was covered with intricate-looking diagrams and spell instructions.  
"It'll be different when we come for Potions," he said. "It changes according to..."  
"What you require," Bonnie finished, nodding as she turned her head back to look up, up at the top of the shelves. "This is amazing."  
"I'm glad you like it, Bonnie," Ian said.  
His smile was softer than she had yet seen it. "Shall we get started?"

They began with the simplest things, turning matches into needles and back again and that sort of thing. First-year stuff, just to get started, and Bonnie managed without much trouble.  
"Good," Ian said, waving his wand to return everything back to its normal state. "Now that I know what you can already do, we can begin the more difficult spells next week."

The door to the Room of Requirement closed behind them and vanished immediately, leaving the two in an empty hallway.  
"I believe," Ian said, "We have separate patrols, now. Bonnie Hargrace, it's been a pleasure."  
He kissed her hand again (why, Bonnie didn't know) turned, and vanished around a bend, robes fluttering behind him. Bonnie shook her head and smiled before she turned in the opposite direction. She didn't know if she'd ever understand Ian Rosier. But at least she was closer now than she had been.


	8. Enemies of the Heir

Bonnie loved Halloween. She always had. The freedom of it, the laughter...the decorations and traditions of Hogwarts castle.  
The carved pumpkins she probably could have fit inside of.

She sprang out of bed that morning and dressed in her usual rush.  
She even threw on a black headband with little jack-o-lanterns on springs that bobbed whenever she moved and flickered with magical "candlelight".

Classes moved more slowly than normal, especially History of Magic, which Bonnie could hardly stand on a "normal" day. She actually fell asleep, completely and totally asleep, until Cedric jabbed her with his elbow at the end of class.  
"Elfric the Eager!"  
Cedric raised his eyebrows at her as he placed his books into his bag.  
"Bon, class is over," he said. "You fell asleep."  
"I fell...oh, goodness. Did Binns notice?" She asked anxiously.  
"Does Binns ever notice?" Tess said, stopping by Bonnie's desk on her way to the door. "Don't worry, Bonnie, you weren't the only one - Thal drifted off five minutes in..."

As the three of them made their way down the hall back toward Hufflepuff, they were interrupted, suddenly, by "Bonnie!" shouted down the hallway. They turned to see Ian Rosier weaving through the crowd, catching up to the little group of Hufflepuffs quickly. He nodded to Cedric and and Tess, then turned to Bonnie, eyes flicking up briefly to the pumpkins dancing above her head.  
"Are you free now, from classes?"  
Behind Bonnie, Cedric and Tess glanced knowingly at each other.  
"Yeah," Bonnie said, "I have nothing until the Halloween feast tonight. Why?"  
"Weasley and Clearwater asked me if I could find a way to cover their shift," he said. "And I asked Ellis to join me, but she...as usual, she'd rather not work any harder than she has to."

Bonnie sighed, thinking longingly of the Common Room and the very beginnings of the Halloween party.  
"I can ask the Ravenclaws," Ian said, smoothing his hair, "But they're both on edge about O. and have been burying themselves in books since the beginning of the year. They barely emerge to do their own patrols."  
"Of course I'll help," Bonnie said. "Meet you in the Entrance Hall in...ten minutes? I just have to drop this off, get changed..."  
"Of course," Ian said, smiling sheepishly.  
Bonnie waved and returned to her friends.

"I can't believe you agreed," Tess said, picking through a carton of Bertie Bott's for her favorite flavors. She turned a brown bean, squinting at it. Cautiously, she nipped off the end of one.  
"Coffee," she said with a relieved laugh. "Thank goodness. That could have gone horribly wrong..."  
Bonnie smiled at her and shed her Hogwarts robes. She folded them neatly and tossed them on the chair by her bed.  
"Anyway," Tess continued. "Why did you, anyway?"  
"Because Ian's my friend," Bonnie said, voice muffled as she changed into a charcoal-grey Hogwarts sweater. She hopped around on one foot, attempting to pull off her socks.  
"And no-one else would help him, and I felt bad."  
She found a pair of jeans and pulled these on, too.  
"You would've done the same for me and Ced, wouldn't you?"  
"Of course. But he's..."  
"My friend," Bonnie said firmly. "I wish the rest of you would get a grasp of that."  
She shoved her wand in her back pocket "And as much as I'd love to continue this discussion, I have to go. Patrols await."  
"And Ian Rosier," Tess said, voice flat.  
She was rewarded by a pillow to the face just before Bonnie skipped out the door, this time without pumpkins bobbing around her head.

"Sorry I'm late," Bonnie said, skidding to a halt in the entrance hall. Ian, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed away to meet her.  
"You're late by maybe a moment," he said. "It really isn't worth apologizing for."  
Bonnie shrugged and walked along beside him as they began patrols. After several long, silent minutes, Bonnie sighed.  
"Doing alright, there?" Ian asked. "Am I boring you?"  
"Not you," Bonnie said. "Just patrols."  
Ian chuckled.  
"That's what you get for being a Prefect," he said.  
"How about a game?"  
"A game?"  
Ian glanced at her, clearly wondering what he would get himself into if he said yes. "What, like I Spy?"  
"No, silly. Something like...Truth."  
"I already don't like the sound of that."  
"Haven't you ever played?"  
"No, and I'm not sure I would like to."  
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"  
"I sincerely doubt that."  
"Please, Ian?"  
"Why are you so..."  
"Because I'm booored."  
"I think you are secretly about five years old."  
"How in the world did you guess?"  
"Fine. Fine! But just this one patrol. Never again. Do you hear me, Bonnie? Never again."  
"Yes! You go first. Ask me something, anything, and I have to answer truthfully. And then I do the same to you."  
"And how will you know if I'm lying?"  
"You won't," Bonnie said, seeming very sure of herself. "Because you're an honorable person."  
"You're very sure of things about me I don't even know for myself. But alright, let's see...you told me in Hogsmeade that the Hat considered putting you in Gryffindor. What made you choose Hufflepuff?"  
Bonnie looked at him quizically.  
"The Hat just Sorted me there," she replied. "I didn't choose it."  
"But don't you know that you do choose your House, in the end?" Ian replied. "If you didn't want to be put in Hufflepuff, you wouldn't have been. It takes your choices into consideration."  
"Who told you that?"  
"No one. Have you ever heard of a Hat-Stall?"  
"A what?"  
"A Hat-Stall. It's when you're so evenly split between two Houses that the Hat cannot make up its own mind. In that instance, it's up to you to decide where you want to go."  
Bonnie shrugged.  
"My mum was a Hufflepuff," she said. "And I grew up kind of assuming I'd either be in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. I knew I couldn't be a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, so when the Sorting came I decided I'd be happy with whatever the Hat chose, if it was between those two. Which probably actually helped it make the decision to put me in Hufflepuff, now I think of it...I don't know. I guess I just instinctively knew I would fit better in Hufflepuff than anywhere else."  
"I think you were right," Ian said. "Well, then. I guess it's your turn. Allow me to brace myself for whatever question you're concocting." "Oh, mine's the same as yours, really." Bonnie said. "Why Slytherin?"

Ian sighed, a long, heavy sigh.  
"I was a Hat-Stall," he said. "You might remember how long my Sorting took. The Hat was stuck between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. It kind of battled with itself for a very long time. Something about cunning versus dedication and intelligence against ambition. Finally, it just kind of...oh, I don't realy know. It got frustrated or it gave up, and I thought I'd give it a nudge, so I just thought "my whole family is in Slytherin, I want to do great things, just put me in Slytherin." It asked me if I was sure, and when I said it was, it bellowed out "Slytherin!" and away I went. Simple as that."  
"That's how, Bonnie pointed out, pulling aside a tapestry to make sure no one was sneaking around in the corridor behind it. "I asked why. We can't move on until you answer the question I asked."  
"You don't miss much, do you?"  
"You will never fool the cedar carrier."  
"...What?"  
"It's what Mr. Ollivander told me when I got my wand. Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. Answer."  
"I chose Slytherin because...because it was the House I least wanted to be in, but knew I most fitted."  
"I don't understand."  
"Most of my family, as you've probably guessed, were Slytherins. With the exception of my mother's side, who were mostly Ravenclaws. And I suppose you could say I'm intelligent - I do well in classes and I love reading. But I also...I'm quite a bit more Machiavellian than I'd even like to admit."  
"Machi..."  
"Ends justify the means to the end," Ian said. "That kind of thing."  
"Oh."  
"Not your cup of tea, Hufflepuff?"  
"No. No, not quite."  
"Your House and Gryffindor are the honorable ones," he said. "Ravenclaw can be. Slytherin...we'll toss honor away if we need to."  
"It's survival," Bonnie said quietly. "I can kind of understand it."  
"More than most people can or will do," Ian said.

The corridors during classes were deserted and quiet, students with books in their arms wandering to the library or back to their Common Rooms for rest until dinner.  
"Your turn again," Bonnie reminded Ian.  
"How much longer do you want to play this?"  
"Until the patrol is finished?"  
"Fine. What...If you had to face a boggart, what would you see?"  
Bonnie shuddered.  
"I see the Dark Mark," she responded. "Death Eaters killed a lot of my mum's family. She never told me about it, but I heard her talking to my dad about it. I just...coming home to see that hanging over the house and to wonder what I would find inside, it...it petrifies me."  
Ian's face was somber.  
"Fair enough," he replied.  
"If you brewed Amortentia, what would you smell?"  
It was out before she could stop herself.  
"Actually, you...um...you don't...have to...answer that. Sorry."  
"It's quite alright," Ian said. "Professor Snape...you know how he favors his own House. He brewed some of the more interesting potions for us, once. Last year. And I could smell butterbeer, Quaffle leather, and..." he seemed to battle with himself for a moment before he finished. "And vanilla and strawberries," he said, quickly and quietly. She didn't notice that he glanced at her when he said it. "So I guess I am going to take the easy way out this time, and bounce that very same question back to you, Miss. Hargrave."  
"We brewed it once in Potions Club," she said. "Just a few of us, and it took us days and days to get right. But I...I smelled the grass after it rains, and clean linen, and chocolate."  
Their hands brushed as they were walking, and Bonnie felt a jolt, something like what the Shock-o-Choc had done, burst through her.

Classes let out, and the halls were soon teeming with students.  
"Well," Ian said, "I guess we had better go. Thank you for doing patrols with me."  
"It was no trouble at all," Bonnie replied. "I'll see you at the feast."  
She smiled shyly and dashed away, disappearing into the crowd on her way to rejoin the Hufflepuffs.

As always, the Hogwarts Halloween feast was magnificent, and the Great Hall was resplendent with orange and black and gold hangings. Jack-o-lanterns grinned with candlelight mouths, and, sure enough, there were dancing skeletons kick-lining their way between the tables.

Full, happy, and ready for the weekend to follow, the students poured from the Great Hall, chattering and laughing and loud as they ever were. Bonnie wound up next to Ian in the doorway.  
"Bonnie, can I have a moment?"  
Again? she thought.  
"Of course," she said. Ian took her gently by the elbow and pulled her out of the way of the last few students.  
"Bonnie, there's something that I wanted to tell you. Ever since we were talking on patrols, I..."  
He looked so nervous. Bonnie automatically, forgetting that this was not Cedric or any of the other boys, took one of his hands in hers.  
He looked down at it as though this were equally the strangest and worst thing to happen to him all day.  
"When we were talking about the Amortentia, I told you a lie."  
"Ian! I told you the rules!"  
"I know. I guess it's just in my nature. But the lie had been plaguing me all day. It isn't a big lie, Bonnie, and there is a hint of truth to it. Do you remember that the last thing I told you was that I could smell vanilla and strawberries?"  
Bonnie, confused already, nodded.  
"The lie is in that," he said. "I do smell strawberry and vanilla, of a sort, but it's not...separate. It's combined, like..."  
Bonnie raised her hand, suddenly, and covered Ian's mouth, glancing around.  
"Bonnie?" He asked, voice anxious and muffled.  
"Listen."

It was near silent. It shouldn't have been silent, it was never silent so soon after meals.  
"Something's wrong," Bonnie said. Without letting go of Ian's hand she took off, forcing him to follow or have his arm pulled from its socket. They dashed up the stairs and nearly collided with a wall of people, all staring forward at something Bonnie couldn't see. She leaned up onto her toes, trying to look over the sea of heads.  
"What are they looking at?" She asked Ian. He craned his neck, and his eyes moved as if he were reading something.  
His face went white.  
"Ian, what is it?"  
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," he read mechanically. "Enemies of the Heir, beware."  
"Enemies of the...Chamber of Secrets? I thought that was a legend."  
Ian, still white, shook his head slowly.  
"I think...Merlin, I think it's written in blood. And Mrs. Norris is hanging from her tail. She's petrified. Bonnie, this is real. This is very real."


	9. Firewhiskey

**((This...is so much fun to write. And this is quite possibly my favorite chapter...I hope you enjoy reading it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Second, to the anon who has been reviewing (or anons? I can't be sure...) I greatly, _greatly_ appreciate it!**

**As always, anything you recognize as a part of the Harry Potter universe probably doesn't belong to me. )) **

Friday dawned cold, grey, and rainy. Immediately, Bonnie regretted even considering going to the match.  
But Ian had asked again, during their Transfiguration tutorial on Tuesday, and she'd said she'd go.  
If she stayed in her dormitory, now, she'd feel guilty for the rest of her life.  
Or, at least, for the majority of the weekend.

"I don't see why we're going," Maggie grumbled as they trudged through the rain, down to the Quidditch pitch. "Since when do you go to Quidditch games?"  
"I promised I'd be there," Bonnie explained, shivering under Maggie's black and yellow umbrella.  
"Yes. Promised a Slytherin you'd be there."  
"Maggie, why don't you let Lee Jordan do the commentary, okay?"  
Maggie continued to grumble all the way to the pitch, but at least nothing was distinct. Bonnie could pretend she wasn't even speaking, if she focused on the sound of the rain.  
"Poor Ian," she said finally. "You couldn't pay me a hundred Galleons to fly in this rain."  
"Or to fly at all," Maggie reminded her.  
"...True."

They found seats at the pitch and huddled under the umbrella, pulling their cloaks more tightly around them for warmth. Bonnie had looped her Hufflepuff scarf around her neck, and Maggie had (smart cookie that she was) gone to the kitchens to get a refilling thermos of hot chocolate from the House Elves. Maggie was specially liked by them, for one reason or another. They just about fell over themselves to do anything for her. More so than usual, even.  
Maggie filled two cups with hot chocolate, and passed one to Bonnie. The rich, sweet liquid was curiously warming - she could feel it burning all the way down.  
"Maggie..."  
"There's a hint of Ogden's in it," Maggie whispered. "Don't worry, it's not enough to get you drunk. I just thought we might appreciate it, in this cold."  
Bonnie shrugged and continued to sip her hot chocolate, squinting through the rain to watch the match.  
Or, more accurately, to watch Ian. She tried to keep herself from focusing on the Slytherin Chaser, tried to switch between the Houses a fair amount. But something kept drawing her back to the silver name "Rosier" embroidered on green Quidditch robes.

Maggie poured more hot chocolate into both cups.  
"What's going on with Harry Potter?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"There's a...there's a random Bludger following him everywhere."  
Bonnie hadn't noticed. She'd been too much absorbed in watching the red Quaffle and its chasers than anything else. But, sure enough, Fred and George Weasley were spending all of their time flying next to Harry and beating off a very persistent Bludger.  
"That is odd," Bonnie said. Soon enough, and much to the displeasure of the Slytherins, Gryffindor called a time-out.  
Bonnie watched as Ian, drenched in rainwater and swiping at his Quidditch goggles, joined his team and glanced up at the stands.  
There was no mistaking the smile when he saw her there - it was a rare, full smile. Bonnie felt as if something had turned over inside of her. An uncomfortable, flipping feeling that she chose to ignore rather than acknowledge.  
Finally, both teams took to the air again, and the match resumed. Slytherin remained ahead for most of the time, until Harry Potter, looking like an enraged falcon, flew straight toward Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Seeker. He didn't hit Malfoy, did catch the Snitch, but was also, suddenly and horribly, hit by the errant Bludger.  
Bonnie could hear the sick cracking sound his arm made from her place in the stands.

"Ouch," she said, wincing. Maggie had been pouring them both cup after cup of hot chocolate. As the thermos kept refilling itself, it kept them well-stocked throughout the game.  
And Bonnie felt more than a little fuzzy.  
With the match over, people were filing down from the stands, heading for the castle and warmth. Bonnie and Maggie began to follow them, kept dry by Maggie's enchanted umbrella.  
Bonnie seemed to be having trouble walking in a straight line.  
"Bon, are you feeling alright?" Maggie asked, taking her friend by the arm.  
"Fine!" Bonnie replied brightly. "Great, even! Can we see Ian? Maggie, I want to go see Ian. He's very nice, did I ever tell you that?"  
"A few times...how much hot chocolate did you drink?"  
"I don't know, however much you gave me. Let's go. Let's go see Ian. Before he goes to get changed, 'cause then I won't see him at all."  
Maggie glanced at the thermos in her hand. She, with her low tolerance for heat, had been sipping her cocoa slowly throughout the game. Bonnie didn't seem to be having the same problem. She'd also, she realized with a flash of sudden horror, forgotten that the thermos refilled with whatever its first contents had been.  
Meaning that each refill had been spiked, and not just the first, as she'd thought.  
"Damn," she muttered.  
"What?"  
"Nothing, Bon. Listen, I think we should just go back up to the cast-"  
"No, Maggie, I told you...I want to see Ian, first!"  
Maggie sighed, looking at Bonnie's flushed cheeks and her soft, drunk eyes.  
"Fine, Bon," she said. "I know I'm not going to persuade you. But five minutes, alright? That's all you're getting. And then we really are going back up to the castle."  
"Fine, fine..."

Their feet hit the wet grass, and Bonnie was off like a shot, flying toward her Slytherin friend.  
"Ian! Ian!"  
He turned, smiling slightly when he saw her running through the rain. She misjudged how long it would take to stop, and skidded on the wet grass, colliding with him. Luckily, he caught her, holding her up. Her hands came to a rest on his shoulders.  
"Oops," she giggled. "Sorry."  
"Quite alright, Bonnie. Are you..."  
She lost her balance and slipped, and Ian looped an arm around her waist to keep her standing.  
"This grass is so slippery," she said, breathless and still giggly, "it is going to kill me."  
"Bonnie, what...?"  
"I wanted to find you," she told him very solemnly. "'Cause Slytherin didn't win, and I think they should have, and also you are the best Chaser ever in Hogwarts."  
Ian raised his eyebrows and glanced over Bonnie's shoulder to Maggie, standing helplessly by the stands with a hand over her eyes.  
"Bonnie, are you..."  
"Maggie had hot chocolate," she told him. "Ian, have I ever told you..."  
"Told me what?"  
"You're really cute, did you know that?"  
"...Thank you?"  
"Even more than Cedric, and everyone likes Cedric."  
"Bonnie, I think Mag..."  
He didn't get to finish his sentence, as Bonnie rose up on her toes, pressing closer to him until their noses touched.  
"I really like you, Ian," she whispered. "Like...really like you. Okay?"  
"Okay...Bonnie..."  
But whatever he was going to say was lost, as Bonnie, with uncharacteristic boldness, brushed his lips with hers. And then they were kissing, drenched by the sheeting rain, Ian's arms tight around Bonnie's waist, her hands pressed to his chest.

Ian, when he managed to pull his thoughts back together, was the first to pull away. He pushed Bonnie back gently by the shoulders.  
"Bonnie," he said, eyes both curious and hurt, "You should go back to the castle now, okay? Get out of the cold."  
"But..."  
Her eyes were bright, but whether it was because of the firewhiskey or the kiss, he couldn't tell. Ian had imagined that moment for longer than he cared to admit, but it had never included a Bonnie so drunk she could hardly walk.  
"Maggie, can you help Bonnie get back to the castle?"  
Bonnie, eyes wide, looked as if she couldn't quite understand why Ian wasn't coming with her.  
"Yeah," Maggie said, looking embarrassed enough for all of them. "Of course."  
She put her arm around Bonnie's shoulder and began to lead her away.  
"Rosier?" She called over her shoulder, looking back to see Ian with a hand buried in his hair, head down. He glanced up at her. "I'm sorry," she said.  
Ian nodded and turned away, walking slowly to the Slytherin changing rooms as Maggie and Bonnie headed slowly for the castle.  
"Oh, Bonnie," she said quietly. "What are we going to do with you?"  
Bonnie was walking in a daze, hair dripping into her eyes and a hand pressed lightly to her lips.  
"I'm so sorry, Bon," Maggie continued, though she wasn't really sure Bonnie was listening at all. "I hadn't thought..."  
Neither, of course, had Bonnie.

Maggie got her back to Hufflepuff and into the dormitory without incident, where she made sure Bonnie didn't fall over as she got changed. Maggie tapped one of the bed warmers with her wand and slipped it under Bonnie's mattress before pouring a glass of water from the clay pitcher on the high windowsill.  
"Drink this," she ordered as she set it down, before aiming a jet of hot air from her wand to Bonnie's head, drying her hair. "I've got a sleeve of soda crackers, too, and I want you to eat those, okay?"  
Bonnie nodded, blinking blearily, and yawned.  
"Maggie, I'm tired. Why am I so tired. And I feel funny. Where's Ian? Did he leave?"  
"...You...could say that."  
"Oh. I kissed him, Maggie. Didn't I?"  
"You sure did, Bon."  
"Am I drunk?"  
Maggie laughed.  
"Just a bit."  
"Oh. I never knew it felt like this. I'm not sure I like it."  
"That's okay. You don't have to."  
"I'm sleepy, Maggie."  
"I know. Hold on just a bit, okay? Let me dry your hair."  
Maggie finished drying her friend's hair, then braided it for her quickly. Bonnie nestled into her pillows, pulling her blankets up like a cocoon around her.  
"Maggie?"  
"Bonnie?"  
"You're a good friend. You know that?"  
"...I wish I were, Bonnie. You wouldn't regret quite as much in the morning."  
"Good night, Maggie."  
"Good night, Bon."

When Bonnie woke up in the morning, it was to a blaring headache and even more blazing embarrassment.  
"What have I done?" she muttered, blushing furiously into the early-morning air. And how, she wondered, was she ever going to be able to look at Ian again?  
For now, she decided, she just wasn't going to.  
Let Operation Avoid Ian Rosier (or "O! Air" as she called it...but only in her head) commence.

Avoidance, honestly, wasn't very hard. Mostly, it involved curling up in the Hufflepuff Common Room with (normal!) cocoa and homework on Saturday instead of going to meet Ian at the Room of Requirement, and then keeping her head down during mealtimes.  
"Almost no one's talking about it," Maggie assured her. "Really, Bonnie, hardly anyone saw."  
""Hardly anyone" doesn't include Ian," Bonnie reminded her. "And he's the one that matters."  
But by Monday morning, any and all talk involving one Miss. Bonnie Hargrave was over and done with.  
There were bigger fish to fry.  
Colin Creevey had been petrified.  
Just like Mrs. Norris.  
The first human victim.

This time, the school was not just abuzz. The whole school was roaring. Amulets were being sold in the corridors, talismans could be seen everywhere. Everyone seemed to have their own idea about what was causing these strange attacks.  
"It's Salazar Slytherin himself!" She heard one over-excited Gryffindor first-year exclaim. "Back from the dead!"  
Sadly, this was not the worst of the crackpot theories. Most of which, even more sadly, did not come from first-years.

"Bonnie."  
So great was her surprise and so frazzled her nerves that Bonnie, who had thought she was alone in the hallway, shrieked and tossed all of her books in the air.  
"You didn't think you'd be able to avoid me forever, did you?"  
Of course.  
Ian Rosier.  
It would be.  
"I was hoping for at least the week," Bonnie admitted, avoiding his eyes as she took a few books from him. "Or at least until I could stop my face from turning into a tomato at the thought of speaking to you, whichever came first."  
"Bonnie..."  
"Look Ian, I'm...I'm sorry, alright? I'd never had that much Firewhiskey in my life...or any Firewhiskey for that matter...so I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking, and..."  
"Did you mean it?"  
"What?"  
"You told me..."  
"I...I remember, Ian. Believe me."  
"You remember what you told me?"  
"...Yeees."  
"Did you mean it?"

Maybe, normally, she would have fibbed. Said she was too drunk to know what she was saying. Said she didn't remember.  
But she'd made the mistake of making eye contact, and Ian looked so earnest and upset that something stopped her.

"Ian, I..."  
"Bonnie. Please. It's very important to me. You know I would never...never make fun of you. Please. Just tell me."  
Bonnie blinked, looked down, looked at the wall, looked everywhere but at Ian.  
"Yes, Ian," she whispered. "I meant it."  
She'd never seen such a big smile on Ian Rosier's face. And even this she didn't see for long, because Ian's hands were suddenly cradling her face, suddenly buried in her hair, and his lips were suddenly on hers.  
Bonnie very nearly dropped all of her books once again.  
"I like you, too, Bonnie Hargrave," Ian said. "Like, really like you. And I meant that. And I mean this..."  
They didn't leave that hallway for a long time.  
And when they did, it was with bright smiles and hands entwined between them.


	10. Home for the Summer

Bonnie and Ian. It didn't take long for the school to connect their names, murmur about it semi-disapprovingly, and then move on to the bigger rumors currently flying back and forth. The timing, while unfortunate, was perfect.  
And, while Maggie and Thalia put up a fuss about it, they more or less accepted that Ian was often going to be with Bonnie, now.  
They all found themselves at Quidditch games more often than they had, before.

As the the castle's rumor-fever hit an all-time high, the great outdoors had other ideas.  
It began to snow.  
Softly, at first, it built up, taking over the night and blanketing the castle grounds in thick sheets of white. Herbology classes were canceled, because Professor Sprout needed to properly outfit the Mandrakes in scarves and earmuffs.  
Bonnie was excused from classes for the day in order to help her - she was the only student Professor Sprout trusted well enough to help. The Mandrakes were of the utmost importance, now that there was a human victim.  
The greenhouses, one of Bonnie's favorite places on campus, were chilly. The glass creaked under the weight of snow. Bonnie's ears, however, were securely covered with bright pink earmuffs, and she couldn't hear a thing.  
Mandrakes, as it turned out, were harder to wrestle into winter clothing than a two year old.  
Thankfully, once you got the scarf wrapped around them, they seemed to settle right down. It was just a matter of figuring out how to do that without pain that was the problem.

They were busy for hours, the two of them, outfitting the Mandrakes. When they'd finally finished and able to remove their earmuffs, Professor Sprout, huffing and puffing slightly, told Bonnie she was thankful she'd caved in and had a student help.  
"Wouldn't have trusted anyone else," she told Bonnie as they trudged through the snow, bundled up themselves, now. "Not yet, anyway, though that Neville Longbottom shows promise..."

Bonnie, dripping snow, walked slowly through the mostly-empty corridors. Classes were still in session, and she could hear voices filtering out through doorways.

And then, suddenly, the peace and stillness was broken. Peeves was shouting, another attack.  
Bonnie took off running, skidding to a slowdown, and then slipping between people to view what had happened.  
Her heart stuttered, and she threw her mittened hands over her face.  
"No," she whispered weakly. "Oh, no."  
Justin Finch-Fletchley lay in the hallway, still, completely unmoving. And Nearly Headless Nick floated, just as motionless, before him.

* * *

"Bonnie, it was in no way your fault," Ian murmured, stroking her hair. "You couldn't have stopped this."  
"He's a second-year, Ian! I'm the Hufflepuff Prefect! I was supposed to take care of him."  
"You cannot blame yourself for this," he reminded her. "You know that, don't you?"  
She nodded slowly, head still resting on his chest. She sniffed, and swiped at her own eyes with the long sleeves of her sweater.  
"I just...I wish I could have...could have helped, somehow," she said. "They were all so, so sad, Ian. Especially poor little Hannah Abbott, she was beside herself."  
It was late, long after curfew. But neither seemed to care.  
They were back in the Room of Requirement again, hidden away from the sleeping school.  
The room, this time, was small and circular with a brick fireplace, neverending amounts of tea, any kind of tea you could possibly imagine, cookies on a silver tray, and the soft sofa they were currently curled up in.  
"He'll be alright," Ian said. "Professor Sprout will grow those mandrakes, and he will be revived. And then, maybe, he can tell them what it was that attacked him. Or who."  
Bonnie sniffed again, but did not reply.  
"Here, sit up a moment."  
Bonnie made a discontented noise, but sat up and let Ian stand.  
"Peppermint tea?" He asked. Bonnie nodded and wrapped her arms around her knees.  
Ian poured two mugs of tea, plain for him and peppermint for Bonnie.  
"Drink," he ordered, pressing the mug into her hands. Bonnie obeyed, and immediately the mildly sweet, minty tea calmed her. Ian sat down beside her again and Bonnie curled into his side, tucked her bare toes under his leg.  
"Cold?" He asked, reaching over with his free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  
"A little. Mostly just my feet."  
Ian chuckled and took a sip of his own tea.  
For a long time they were quiet, sipping tea and watching the fire crackle happily.

"Ian?"  
"Bonnie?"  
"Have you...in the Slytherin Common Room, have you...heard anything?"  
"About the Heir of Slytherin, you mean?"  
Bonnie nodded, and held the warm mug to her cheek for its warmth.  
"Not yet," Ian said. "Though there has been quite a lot of nonsense about whose bloodline is purest. Or password at the moment is even "pureblood"," He looked as if the word tasted quite bitter. "There's been quite a bit of talk about Harry Potter being the heir, actually."  
"Really?" Bonnie looked up, curious.  
"Haven't you heard this?"  
Bonnie shook her head no.  
"Do you remember that Duelling Club that Lockhart started?"  
"The one you went to?"  
"Yes. There was an...incident, there. They partnered Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy..."  
Bonnie snorted, amused.  
"Right, exactly. And Malfoy shot this serpent at Harry. Lockheart, useless as he is, tried to get rid of it, and angered the thing instead. When the snake landed..."  
"Landed?"  
"He kind of...thew it up in the air, magically. Anyway, the first thing it saw was Justin, and it headed toward him. Potter he...he spoke Parseltongue."  
"What? But there's so few people who can do that, how could he...?"  
Ian shrugged.  
"No one could really tell what he was doing...he was either egging the thing on or calling it off, I'm not even truly sure which one it was. And Justin got mad, asked Potter what he was playing at, and stormed off."

"So now that Justin's been...attacked..."  
"Everyone thinks Potter is the one who did it."  
"But that's ridiculous! Potter is a Gryffindor! Which might not mean anything, but then why would he want to kill Muggleborns? Isn't Hermione Granger one of his best friends? And he spends every waking moment with the Weasleys, and everyone knows how Arthur Weasley feels about Muggles..."  
"I know, Bonnie. They aren't thinking. But they need a scapegoat, and Potter's the most convenient one. It'll pass when they realize how ridiculous it is."  
"I hope so."  
"People are strange, Bonnie. Magical or not."  
"Why can't we all just...I don't know."  
"Get along, Miss. Hufflepuff?"  
"Something like that."

* * *

Following the double attack of Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hufflepuff was more than a little upset. Justin was well-liked, especially among the first and second years. It wasn't uncommon for Bonnie to stumble upon knots of weepy eleven year olds or groups of troubled second years. She handled it as well as she could, trying all the while to do away with the alarmingly common notion that Harry Potter was the heir of Slytherin.  
Bonnie didn't think she'd ever heard anything more ridiculous in her life. Unfortunately, Ernie McMillan was set on the notion and no matter how hard Bonnie tried, he and his friends were not about to let the matter go.

It seemed that her fifth year was going to be marked by the strange phenomenon of bad news making things easier for Bonnie. Just as she was becoming so sick of correcting Potter-is-the-her-of-Slytherin rumors that she was in danger of snapping, the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor Quidditch game came around.  
Or tried to, anyway.  
No sooner had the teams assembled, red and yellow Quidditch robes dotting the green grass, than Professor McGonagall appeared on the field and ordered all students back to their dormitories.  
There would be no Quidditch game played today.

Bonnie, in the stands with her usual group of Hufflepuff fifth-years and Ian, who really didn't have many Slytherin friends and seemed to prefer the company of the Hufflepuffs.  
"What's happened?" Maggie asked, craning her neck to examine the field. "Does anyone know?"  
Patricia tugged nervously at her hair.  
"You don't suppose there's been another attack...?"  
Asa Henry, a fellow fifth year and, recently, Patricia's boyfriend, squeezed her hand comfortingly.  
"I don't see what else it could be," Ian said darkly. Bonnie glanced at him and followed his gaze, dark and upset, to where Draco Malfoy stood, smirking, with his equally smug friends.  
"He seems to be enjoying himself, doesn't he?" Bonnie said under her breath, so that only Ian could hear. Ian shook his head unhappily.  
"He can't be the heir," he replied quietly. "I thought maybe, but...I've been looking into wizarding genealogies and the Malfoys are in no way direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. The families are linked, yes, but only barely. And that's something you really cannot escape, with families as pureblooded as theirs."

They walked back to the castle and parted ways, making for their House common rooms. Cedric Diggory caught up to Bonnie, looking flustered.  
"Penelope Clearwater's been attacked," he whispered as they shepherded some nervous first-years into the Common Room. "And Hermione Granger."  
"At least that dispels the Potter myths," Bonnie said grimly. They took seats on the couch in front of the fire. Professor Sprout was standing in front of the fireplace, twisting her hands.

"Quiet, please!" Professor Sprout said. Hufflepuff House settled down, and Professor Sprout began to speak.  
"In light of recent events..." she began.  
"Have there been more attacks?" Someone interrupted.  
"Who was it?"  
"Are they going to be alright?"  
"When will the Mandrakes be ready?"  
"Do they know who's doing this?"  
"Will Hogwarts be..."  
"Quiet!" Cedric called above the din. "Please. Let Professor Sprout talk."  
Cedric's voice, it seemed was even more effective than Professor Sprout's.  
"Thank you, Mr. Diggory. To answer your question, there has been another...incident...involving two students from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Houses. In light of the fact that four students, a ghost, and a cat have all been victims of this attack in such a short period of time, there will be some changes."  
The common room was still, the silence heavy and expectant.  
"As of this moment, no student is to be unaccompanied in the corridors. Your professors will escort you between your classes and back to the common room in the afternoons. You are not to go to the lavatories unless accompanied by a professor. Prefects, while it has been general practice to do your rounds in pairs, it is now the rule. You are not to patrol the castle on your own, under any circumstances. The consequences for a student found breaking curfew or wandering the corridors on their own will be strict - we cannot take any chances."  
She paused again and swallowed heavily.  
"I must warn you all," she said, "that there is a real chance that Hogwarts could close because of these attacks. So I urge each and every one of you, if you have any information, any at all, to come forward immediately. Thank you."  
When she had finished, Professor Sprout crawled through the tunnel and exited the common room.

There was silence, for nearly a full minute.  
And then the murmuring started.  
In moments, the common room was alive with voices discussing and arguing, throwing facts and speculation back and forth between them.

* * *

What remained of her fifth year was clouded and muddled, the confusion broken only by stray moments with friends in the privacy of dormitories and common room, and the tutoring sessions with Ian. They used their patrols in order to meet - following rounds, they met while still in House pairs and went to the Room of Requirement until classes let out or mealtimes came and they could slip into the crowds unnoticed.  
Bonnie, though still not the world's best Transfiguration student and unlikely to ever become an Animagus, had greatly improved since they had begun. Ian, meanwhile, who had never been completely incompetent with potions, had also improved under Bonnie's tutelage.

O. came and went, causing nervousness and confusion above and beyond what the Chamber of Secrets alone had been causing. Bonnie was relatively unconcerned, but for the Transfiguration section. But she knew she'd worked hard, had memorized names and dates and spells and technicalities until she thought her head would explode. There was little chance she'd gotten anything less than an Exceeds Expectations on most subjects.  
Except maybe History of Magic. That one was probably, at best, an Acceptable. She'd slept through most of the classes. Then again, so had most of her friends.  
They'd studied off of a kind of patchwork quilt of notes, assembled from the odd tidbits they'd assembled in rare moments of wakefulness and the pity-handouts from more alert students.

And then Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber, and O.W.L's were instantly forgotten.

But Harry Potter, of course, had come through. Stories spread, each more fantastical than the last, until the true order of events would never be known. Gryffindor won the House and Quidditch Cups, much to Alan's delight (Bonnie knew she wouldn't hear the end of it all summer). All too soon, they were packing and boarding the Hogwarts Express, headed home for the summer.

"You will write over the summer, won't you?"  
"Will you read my letters, this time?"  
"Ian. That happened once. And I hardly knew you...!"  
"I'm only joking, Bonnie, of course I'll write."  
Bonnie stood on the tips of her toes and threw her arms around Ian's neck.  
"I'll miss you."  
"I know. I'll miss you, too, believe me."  
With all of the time they'd spent together, all of the conversations, Bonnie still didn't know much about Ian's home or his family. He never spoke of them, not even in passing, though he seemed genuinely interested and pleased whenever Bonnie spoke of her own family.  
She could only assume he lived somewhere gloomy and unhappy, surrounded by a cold, proudly Pureblood family.  
Their kiss on the platform drew some attention, though not as much as she had feared - the Hogwarts students had grown used to them, and the parents weren't really paying them much attention.  
"See you in September," Bonnie said as they parted. Her family was waiting, and she knew she was going to have to answer their questions.  
Her father in particular looked as if he was going to burst with them.  
Typical Ravenclaw.  
"See you in September, Bonnie."  
Ian kissed her forehead and watched as she pushed her trolley off toward her family, greeting them with bright smiles, hugs, and kisses. Her little sister, Poppy, wrapped her arms around her older sister's waist and didn't seem keen on letting go.

She turned around as they headed back into the Muggle station, caught Ian's eye, and smiled. He produced a smile in return and waved as she disappeared beyond the platform.

Surrounded by families and fellow students, Ian gathered his luggage. Matilda leaped up onto his shoulder, purring, and butted his temple with the side of her head.  
Feeling heartened that he at least wasn't totally alone, Ian set off. There would be a car waiting for him outside, he knew - shiny and black and enchanted to go faster than any Muggle car. But all that was waiting for him at the end of the trip was a long, lonely summer with only ink-and-paper communication with Bonnie to keep his company. Letters, books, and a cat.**  
At least it would be better than last year.**

* * *

**((I apologize if this chapter seems a bit rushed. I was honestly getting a bit bored with this Chamber of Secrets thing, considering Harry got most of the action of it. We're going to play a bit of a time-game. I'll kind of skim over what happened during their sixth year in the next chapter, and then we'll move on to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I don't think second/third year would be as interesting to other students as they were to the Trio...  
****This is going to continue after Hogwarts, and then we'll kind of jump through the war, I think. I have some...interesting events in mind, so we'll see what happens!))**


	11. Summer

_August 14th, 1993_

_Dear Bonnie, _

_It's interesting, really. I hadn't realized how much I'd come to rely on you being here. I know I sound pathetic, but I'm not sure I really have the heart to care. Something is off balance. There's too much gloom and not enough sun. It's bright outside, but it feels false. _  
_September cannot come quickly enough. _  
_My summer compared to your seems quite uneventful. I spend most of my days accompanied only by my family's old dog, these letters, and some books. Matilda thinks herself too good to spent time outside of the manor. _  
_It seems I've let some information slip, Bonnie, of the kind you seem most interested in. _  
_It is a manor, yes. But it is not the pretty picture you may think. _  
_Someday, maybe I'll find the courage to tell you all about my life, my family, this house. But for now, I can hardly stand to think of it, myself. _

_I received my O.W.L results recently. Care of Magical Creatures was the only poor grade. _  
_Truly, I received a P. _  
_But thanks to your brilliance at Potion making, I received an Exceeds Expectations and can move on to continue, next year. Thank you, Bonnie. You have no idea how grateful I am for that. _

_I wish I could talk to you. Actually talk to you. I wonder what your family thought about...the platform. _  
_I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble, though to say I regret it would be the largest lie of my summer. _

_The Hogwarts Express has never felt so far away. _

_Thinking of you still, _  
_Ian. _

* * *

**Dear Miss. Hargrave.  
Enclosed are the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels. We thank you for your time and effort and wish you all the best.**

Astronomy: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E  
Divination: P  
Herbology: O  
History of Magic: A  
Potions: O  
Transfiguration: E 


	12. I Can Explain

Seventh year had come so fast, as if Sirius Black's escape the previous year had given her time at Hogwarts when all she wanted was to have it slow down.  
Especially now that everything with Ian was so...strange. As if he'd spilled all of his secrets, told her things he'd never told a soul, and then gotten scared.  
She hadn't heard from him since that day in July, when he'd come to visit.

They'd spent the whole day outside, on a blanket on the grass, in the sunshine. Just talking, eating strawberries, and watching the clouds pass overhead.  
It had been perfect. So perfect.  
And then he'd started to talk.

It wasn't the talking that had been a problem, really. She was glad to listen.  
To hear about the father who was rarely around when Ian was a child, before that father got himself killed. About the fact that his father was cool and distant on the rare occasions he spent more than a day at home, the fact that he'd wanted to raise a son who was as calculating and aristocratic as he was.  
Finally, she heard about the gloomy, sprawling manor, the house that was too big for his three-person family. Too big by half for him, his mother, his aunt, and their one house-elf.  
Finally, she heard of how his mother, one of the most beautiful of an now-extinct pureblood line, had changed over the grief that followed her husband's death. Even after he became cold and inattentive.  
About how she locked herself in her dark room and emerged at increasingly rare intervals, looking thinner and paler each time.  
"Like the angel of death," Ian had said.

She heard things she had guessed at - loneliness, strictness, unhappiness, expectations he didn't want to live up to.

He'd said so much more, too, about himself, about his desires for the life ahead of him, his fears. About the fact that he'd liked her since first year, but never thought that the happy little Hufflepuff could ever care for a Slytherin, a Death Eater's son. Like him.

He'd left after dinner with her family, had even parted with a goodbye kiss.  
And then, nothing. Not even a note. For the rest of the summer.

"Bonnie?"  
Cedric tapped on the window of her compartment, making her jump.  
"Are you doing alright?"  
"What?"  
He came in and slid the door closed behind him, then took a seat next to her.  
"Are you alright? It's not like you to be off on your own like this."  
Bonnie shrugged, but curled into Cedric when he put his arm around her shoulder.  
"Is it...?"  
"Ian? Yeah. I don't...I don't even know what happened, Ced!"  
They sat together in near-silence for a long time.  
"C'mon," Cedric said finally. "Let's go sit with the rest. I know you, Bonnie. It'll make you feel better."  
Bonnie grumbled.  
"What?" Ced asked, laughing slightly. "Bonnie, I only speak English, help me out here."  
"I've been avoiding Maggie," she said finally. "She's just going to tell me she told me so. Which she did. But I can't...I just don't want to hear it, right now."  
"Hey." Cedric shook her shoulders slightly. "Maggie is your friend. And she loves you, and will take care of you. Any and all gloating will be saved for after you're healed."  
"Promise?"  
"I promise. Come on. I'll even buy you a Cauldron Cake."

Much as she hated to admit it, Cedric had been right. The bustling, noisy compartment, full of her friends and their jokes and their laughter, was just what she'd needed.  
What would she do without him?

She didn't think much of Ian through the carriage ride with her friends or the welcome feast. In fact, she sat with her back to the Slytherin table throughout the meal, and then ushered the first years away at the first chance she got.  
She didn't think much of Ian, in fact, until the traditional fifth-year-and-up party, complete with Butterbeer, and Firewhiskey for those who were more daring. Bonnie steered well away from it, but took several bottles of Butterbeer. In the prime seats by the fire were Maggie, Patricia, and the twins. Cedric and the other seventh year boys were busy discussing something...probably Quidditch...and were already sipping from their own bottles and mugs.

"So I noticed a certain lack of Ian," Thalia said, raising her bottle to Bonnie after taking it.  
"Yes, well. We're not exactly talking," Bonnie said, popping the cap from her own bottle. "Or, more accurately, he isn't talking to me."  
"What?" Maggie looked genuinely alarmed. "Why?"  
"Wish I knew," Bonnie said, trying not to let them see that it bothered her as much as it did. "He just...stopped. Everything was fine, and then...nothing. No letters came, he stopped answering my letters, he didn't even meet me in Diagon Alley like we had planned..."  
"And I take it you still haven't spoken to him?"  
Bonnie shook her head.  
"He avoided me completely at the Prefect's meeting," Bonnie said, valiantly ignoring the lump in her throat, "And I haven't seen him since."  
Maggie glanced at the others, then took Bonnie's hand.  
"Don't make any judgements until you talk to him. REALLY talk to him. Okay?"  
Bonnie nodded, and took another deep sip of Butterbeer.  
"I think I'm just going to go to bed," she told the rest of them, smiling. "I'm just not in the mood for this, right now. See you tomorrow?"  
"Of course. Are you going to be okay, Bon?"  
"What? Yeah, of course. I'm just tired."

She knew her friends were watching as she slipped into the seventh-year girls' dormitory. The separation of the door was welcome, as was the softness and warmth of her bed. She was going to miss this, she could already tell. This room. This feeling.  
Well. Maybe not the feeling. Not all of it.

She just...for the life of her, she couldn't...  
What had happened?  
Bonnie buried her face into her pillow, and held a rather disgruntled Milton a little too tightly. The cat wriggled in protest until Bonnie let him go and held onto her pillow, instead.  
Everything had been so...perfect. Last year. It had been golden and glowing and shimmery, even. All light. Even that night when the whole school had to sleep in the Great Hall had held charm. Falling asleep in a sleeping-bag knot of her friends, holding Ian's hand.

Quidditch games, prefect patrols, late nights in the Room of Requirement, a summer and a half of nothing but letters.  
And now, silence? It didn't make sense. Maybe she wasn't a Ravenclaw, but she had enough logic to know that there was none, in this.

The tap on the window that broke the silence was completely unexpected. And yet Bonnie did not jump. She looked up, wiping at her tired, puffy eyes, and swung out of bed to open it.  
An owl hopped in, a bird she didn't recognize - a barn owl with a wise, old face. And it was completely and utterly drenched.  
Bonnie took the package from the bird and cast a spell, letting a gentle, warm current of air dry the bird.  
"Why don't you stay here, tonight?" She said. "Keep out of that rain."  
The bird looked at her gratefully and, warm and dry at last, tucked its head under its wing and fell asleep.  
Bonnie sat cross-legged on the bed to pull the package open. Inside there was a small silver canister, cold to the touch. When Bonnie pulled the lid from the canister, it was to the sweet, creamy pink of strawberry ice cream, dotted with the darker red of real fruit. A note had been tied to the knob of the canister lid.

All it said was: I can explain.


	13. Schism

**((Did anyone else think of _The Hunger Games_ when Bonnie got the silver canister of ice-cream from Ian? Because that's all I could think of, after I wrote it...  
I'm loving the reviews this time around! Not that I didn't before, there were just more of them, this time! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, so far. ))**

* * *

_"Times like these, dark times, they do funny things to people. They can tear them apart." -Arthur Weasley_

* * *

****"He'd better be able to explain!" Maggie fumed, tossing her hands in the air.  
Tess, who was still asleep, groaned and pulled her pillow over her head.  
"Maggie! Be quiet, would you? There's a full hour before I actually have to be awake!"  
Maggie rolled her eyes and dragged Bonnie, still straightening her skirt with her robe thrown over her shoulder, out into the common room.  
"Maggie! I need that arm, thank you!"  
"Oh, you're fine. Come on, now. Are you really just going to take him right back?"  
"I don't know, Maggie. What if it was all just some big misunderstanding?"  
"It's Ian Rosier, Bon. He's a Slytherin. There has to be some kind of reason behind it."  
"I don't..."  
"Oh, don't even start. It has everything to do with him being a Slytherin. He has all of the traits: resourceful, ambitious, cunning, shrewdness, self-preservation, intelligence, determination. A kind of disregard of rules. They don't do things without reason, Bon. We might, sometimes. Gryffindors definitely do. But Ravenclaws? Slytherins? Rarely, if ever."  
"Maybe this is one of those rare times, Maggie. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt."  
"Bonnie..."  
"Maggie. He stopped answering letters. He didn't...he didn't do anything really wrong, okay? I'll be fine, no matter what."  
Her voice softened, and she said: "How could I not be, with a House full of friends like you?"  
Maggie smiled, and the two girls, arm-in-arm, made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Maggie and Bonnie joined Patricia, an early-riser by nature. They received their schedules for the year, which they examined while crunching their way through toast with marmalade.  
Maggie wanted to own a shop in Hogsmeade, and so hadn't exactly applied herself to her O. , happy to receive mostly As and one P (in Potions which, for anyone who knew Maggie, wasn't surprising. She loathed the subject). Patricia and Bonnie were both interested in becoming Healers for St. Mungo's, and had earned nearly the exact same marks as Bonnie - they were in many of the same classes together, a fact for which Bonnie was grateful. Patricia was kind, smart, level-headed and hard-working, traits which made her a great person to go through any kind of training with.

Thalia and Tess would be in different classes altogether - Thalia wanted to go into research for new spells, and Tess wanted to teach...she'd prefer to do so at Hogwarts, but she wasn't picky. She'd go to the first wizarding school that asked.  
And Cedric. Cedric wanted to work in the Ministry, or at least that was what he said. Bonnie wasn't at all sure if that was Ced talking, or if Mr. Diggory was somewhere behind that dream telling Cedric that was what he wanted.

Ian, who wanted to be an Unspeakable, could be in just about any class. Snape had apparently told him that he should be prepared for just about anything.

Bonnie didn't see Ian, though. Not at breakfast or at lunch. She didn't even catch a glimpse of him in the chaos of the corridors between classes. She was beginning to wonder if he was in Hogwarts at all. That night, after finishing what small amounts of homework had been given on the first day, Bonnie made her way up to the owlrey to send a letter to Alan. He'd gone to work for Gringotts after his seventh year, and was currently in China. Doing what, Bonnie didn't exactly know. When he'd explained it to her, she'd become so bored that she had tuned out.  
She really needed to get a handle on that bad habit.

She looked around at the gleaming eyes and rustling wings, trying to find the barn owl that had delivered her package the previous night. But he wasn't there. There were other barn owls, yes, but not him. Bonnie chose a screech owl, who hooted softly as she handed him the letter.  
"Safe travels, little guy," she said, tossing the owl into the air.  
"Bonnie."  
She actually screamed, disturbing the owls who hooted reproachfully and rustled their wings.  
"Ian! Are you _trying_ to kill me? I nearly fell out of the _window_..."  
Ian raised his eyebrows.  
"Your feet looked safely planted on the ground, from here."  
"Very funny."  
She walked by him and down the owlrey steps, letting the sensation of the sun on her face distract her.  
"Bonnie..."  
Ian was following along behind her. When she turned to look at him, the sight of his face shocked her. In the dim light of the owlrey she hadn't been able to see how thin his face had become, how dark the circles under his eyes were, now. He looked sad and exhausted, and she nearly broke down then and there.  
"What, Ian?" she asked instead. She sounded fatigued, as if Ian following her had worn her out.  
"I just..."  
He ran a thin hand through his hair and the sight of that, too, shocked her. His hands were pale and far too thin, more like a skeleton's hands than Ian's.  
"You said you could explain," Bonnie said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. She folded her arms and looked at him, pretended she didn't want to wrap her arms around him and ask him what was wrong. And feed him cookies and cocoa and full-fat milk until he no longer looked so sick, so sad. Instead, she said: "So explain, then."

Ian spread his hands out in front of him.  
"Bonnie, I'm sorry..."  
"No, Ian. You have to tell me. Did you think you could just...just...forget me, like that, ignore me, and then come back to Hogwarts and have me just run straight to you? It doesn't work like that."  
"I know. Bonnie, I know that, but..."  
"But what?"  
Ian glanced around and took Bonnie gently by the elbow, guiding her under a tapestry and into an alcove hidden there. An arrow-slit of a window cast a strange bar of light across Ian's face that made him look even worse.  
"It's more complicated than you think."  
Ian wasn't helping his case.  
"And, what? You thought I wouldn't understand?" Her words were meant for argument, but her voice was pleading. She didn't want this. She wanted it to be last year. She wanted everything to be peaceful and calm and good and golden again.  
"No. Yes. Bonnie...even I can't really understand. I wish I could just tell you, right here and now, of everything that has happened this summer."  
"Then tell me."  
"It's not...Bonnie, I told you. It simply is not that easy."  
"And I'm not that stupid," Bonnie said, real anger beginning to edge beneath her sympathy. She made to leave, even pushing the tapestry aside before Ian caught her arm.  
"Bonnie. Please don't leave me."  
She turned, holding his gaze as confidently as she knew how.  
"Then tell me."  
Instead of saying a word, he kept his eyes locked with hers and pulled up his left sleeve.

There, branded onto the skin of his forearm, was a mess of dark lines. She couldn't see what they were very clearly, not at first. Shock and confusion had overridden her mind. But then her sight cleared, and she saw it for what it was.  
And it made her stomach churn.

Wide-eyed and startled as a deer caught in the beam of a flashlight, she stumbled back until she was as far from Ian and his Dark Mark as she could get, pressed to the stone wall behind her.  
She thought she might be sick.  
"Bonnie, I...this is why" Ian passed a hand over his face, as if he could clear his thoughts by the pressure. "This is why I never wrote you," he said. "I just could not...could not face you. And I am so, so sorry..."  
Bonnie was crying, hot tears slashing across her face before she realized it was happening. Her throat was tight with the attempt to hold back screams and sobs of anger and sadness.  
"Sorry? Ian, I thought you were...I _trusted_ you! I thought you were _different_! I...I loved you, Ian."  
Her voice became more and more choked with each exclamation until it caught on the word "loved" and fell apart. She placed the back of her quivering hand against her mouth, unable to take her eyes from Ian's forearm.  
"Bonnie, please let me explain..."  
"Explain! What is there to explain?"  
"Everything! Please, just..."  
"No! I can't even..."  
She wouldn't meet his eyes, kept them squinting into the light from the arrow-slit window. The sting of the light on her now dim-accustomed eyes kept the tears from taking over.  
"I can't even look at you, right now," she hissed. And in a whirl of Hogwarts robes and a flash of gold hair in the light, she was gone.

Ian, alone in the dark, put both hands over his face and sank back against the wall, sliding down the stone until he was sitting on the cold floor, shoulders shaking.  
In his mind, the memories flashed like unhappy photographs.  
There were so many hands.  
His aunt's cold, bony hand on his shoulder.  
His mother's frail white hand in his.  
His own hands, clammy and fumbling.  
And His hands. His awful, terrible hands that could hardly clutch the wand as he pressed it into Ian's skin.

He remembered it all, as clearly as if he were still living it. Apparition to Surrey, an imposing house rising in the distance, his feet heavy and slow, trudging as if on a march to death. The dusty smell of absence and semi-neglect that hung in the old rooms as they passed through.  
The stillness. The silence. The giant snake that led them to a room where a high-backed chair faced away from the door and a high, cold voice beckoned them forward. Strangling his scream before it could live, when he saw Lord Voldemort. The tears he hid as the wand pressed, hard, into the skin of his forearm.  
His horror as he watched the darkness spread and take shape there on his skin, for all the world to see.  
His mother with her eyes shining, hands clasped beneath her chin. The first smile he'd seen on her face in years.  
And now, most recently, Bonnie's eyes shining with tears, the disgust written plainly across every inch of her skin.  
The sound of her feet and her ragged breath as she ran from him.

He'd always thought "broken heart" was an exaggeration.  
It wasn't.  
His was ripping at the seams, tearing itself to pieces.  
Gain a mother, lose the one girl you've ever loved.  
Gain a family, lose the only friends you had.  
Gain friends, powerful ones, and lose the only person you would die to protect.  
Gain power, tear yourself and that beloved one to pieces without any words at all.  
He didn't want this. He didn't want this.  
He had to echo the words over and over again, because there was a part of him that did.  
He'd never understood his father. Not until now.  
Power. Glory. Victory. They were beautiful, beautiful words, more intoxicating than just about anything.  
Anything, that is, but Amortentia.  
Because he could still smell strawberry ice-cream, could still feel his heart-rate pick up speed, and he knew that if she had let him explain, he would have renounced it all in a heart-beat.  
It hadn't been his choice, he would have told her. Not entirely.  
How can you choose, between your own life and that of your mother?  
How can you choose, when your family is on the line?  
And what if the thought of power reeled you in more than you ever thought possible? What then?  
He was scared. Terrified. He was only seventeen, and his world was in bits and pieces, sharp as knives, all around him. One step in any direction meant blood and pain.  
And how was he supposed to choose?

Bonnie didn't cry, after she'd dried her tears in the hallway in front of the tunnel. She was finished, she decided, with tears.  
But the Dark Mark lingered, flashing over and over again, that hated sign on that most-loved skin. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream, to beat her chest and pull her hair and tear at her clothes until her rage and fear were satisfied and her fingers bled.  
But she didn't. Couldn't.  
Instead she took a breath, walked into the Common Room. Laughed with her friends.  
And tried to ignore the open, festering wound that no one could see.  
It turned out that broken hearts were real, after all.

* * *

**((I apologize for any and all cliches, cheesiness, or...  
Actually, I really don't. Because it was enormously fun to write. Which makes me feel a bit sadistic, honestly, but...  
I know I'm kind of pushing it with the Death Eater thing. But Maggie's right - there are reasons, for the Mark and everything else.  
Review, review, review! ^^ )) **


	14. First Step

**((Sorry for the minor delay...I had to go away for the weekend and didn't have access to the internet. I'd meant to post this before I left, but ran out of time.)) **

* * *

_"We love the things we love for what they are" - Robert Frost_

* * *

****She didn't have long to dwell on the fact that Ian Rosier was not the same person, any longer. Hogwarts wouldn't let her.  
The first Tri-Wizard Tournament in years was going to be held, and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were arriving now.

They came in a flurry of winged horses and a splash of water, and were welcomed to Hogwarts in the typical fashion: a grand feast. This one, though, was different. In an effort, it seemed, to make everyone feel more at home, they had included dishes from France and wherever Durmstrang was (Bonnie was hazy on the details). All she knew for sure was that she wouldn't enter the Tournament, not for all of the glory in the world.  
Ian, Cedric, Maggie, and Thalia seemed to have different ideas. They all entered their names on slim slips of paper, hoping for the chance to...  
What?  
Possibly to die?  
Bonnie scowled at the offending Goblet every time she saw it, and gave it a wide berth.  
Her unhappiness mounted to new heights when names were called.

Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, she didn't feel much for. She didn't know them. And while she certainly hoped they remained safe during the Tournament, her world wouldn't exactly shatter if something happened to them.  
But then the Goblet sent Cedric's name up, and her breath stopped.

He was happy, she could see it in his eyes. Another chance to prove himself, to be the man his father expected him to be.  
And then the Goblet unexpectedly spat up a fourth name, and the Hall went quiet.  
Harry Potter.  
She didn't understand what had happened, didn't know what to think. Potter was only fourteen...how had he entered his name at all? How had he fooled not only Dumbledore's enchantments, but the Goblet itself?

Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing.  
And it didn't take long for Hogwarts students to take sides. For once, Slytherin was on the side of the Hufflepuffs, wearing "Support Cedric Diggory!" badges. Bonnie and her friends had refused the buttons, knowing that Cedric disliked them and that the rest of the school knew where their support was without them having to wear badges or buttons.

Every time Bonnie saw Ian, in the time before the first Task, she felt something different. Anger. Sadness. Longing. Sympathy. Disgust.  
No matter how she tried, she couldn't get the image of the Dark Mark out of her mind.

She didn't know that he couldn't get the image of her horrified eyes out of his. Or that he had been watching her when Cedric's name had been called, and wished things were different. Not that his name had been called, not exactly. But changed enough so that he at least could have offered some word of comfort to her.  
She'd looked terrified, so upset that he couldn't stand to watch her any longer.

Ian had spent most of his days with the other seventh-year Slytherins, some as furtive and melancholy as he, some more determined. He didn't think any of the others had the Mark. His had been a special case, a case of a son taking a father's place. He'd been bound to the Dark Lord because his father had been.  
"Your mother is dying," his aunt had told him, her eyes flat and dark. "She will die, if you don't give her something to live for."  
"I'm not my father," he had told her, voice low and rough.  
"No," she had agreed, "But you are his memory. You look like him, you sound like him, walk like him. Take his place with the Dark Lord, Ian. Make your mother proud."  
"How do you know this will save her?"  
"She told me herself. She has nothing, now, to fight for. Give her something, Ian. Give her a reason to stay with us."  
And so, he had. And it seemed to work.  
It was the only thing that kept him from refusing, from turning away from Little Hangleton, that evening.

They almost circled each other, watching but never speaking, each keeping silent tabs on the other.  
Bonnie never told a soul about the Dark Mark, not even Maggie. She couldn't bring herself to.  
In fact, she pretended her meeting with Ian in the owlrey had never happened. Pretended she still hadn't spoken to him and didn't intend to.

One night, however, during patrols, it became impossible to ignore Ian any longer.  
Because they were trapped. Together.  
It was the worst possible circumstance, Bonnie thought, heart pounding along uncomfortably close to her throat.  
"Alohamora!" she murmured, tapping the knob of the locked door with her wand. But nothing happened. Nothing at all.  
"It's no use," Ian told her without looking at her.  
"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked suspiciously.  
"It's the Room of Requirement. In this particular form, that door will not open until the opener's requirement is fulfilled."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I opened it," Ian said, smoothing his hair with his right hand, "So that I could talk with you."  
Bonnie was quiet, more silent than she'd been in her life. Even her breathing was near non-existent.  
"Please tell me you're joking," she said. If it hadn't been Bonnie, her voice could have been called"dangerous". As it was, it was just very, very low.  
"Bonnie, you left me no other choice. Would you have spoken to me, if I had approached you in the corridor between classes?"  
Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Bonnie shrugged, her crossed arms a protective barrier in front of her.  
"Maybe I would have," she grumbled, "If I knew this would be the alternative."  
Ian grinned a strange, lopsided thing.  
"Of course," he said.

The room was more corridor or antechamber than room itself, all grey stone hung with tapestry, a soft rug lining the long stretch of floor. There were some curving chairs shoved against the walls, if either of them cared to sit facing each other across the stone passageways.  
And, everywhere, there was silence.

"I've been teaching myself a bit, recently," Ian said, pacing, restless as a caged tiger. "Not that Moody has been inadequate - the opposite, in fact, but..."  
He looked at her, his expression pained.  
"Do you remember when we played that game of yours, where we were to tell each other the truth?"  
Bonnie nodded.  
"Why did we ever stop playing that?" Ian finished. He smoothed a hand over his hair, an old, familiar gesture. And Bonnie smiled. The first chink in her armor.  
"Bonnie, I want to explain," Ian said. "Would you allow me that?"  
"I don't think I really have much choice."  
"I...I did not join Lord Voldemort because I believe in what he is doing," Ian said, choosing his words carefully. Bonnie's eyes had already begun to narrow. "I joined to save my mother," he said finally. "I told you, before, that her...depression, sorrow, madness, whatever it was...it...it's been getting worse over the years. She rarely ever left the house. It got to the point where she stopped eating altogether. She did not desire life, she desired death because she wanted to be with my father. And my aunt thought that...that because I look like he did, because I am some kind of living memory of my father, I could change that. The only way I could do that, though, was to join him."  
"And, what?" Bonnie asked, not quite believing. "That just made everything better?"  
"No, Bonnie," Ian said, sounding exasperated for the first time. "No, of course not. Not at first. But it did. She...she went to Diagon Alley for the first time since I've been at Hogwarts. She combed her hair and pinned it up, she wore her favorite robes again. She laughed, Bonnie. I haven't seen her smile since...since I was very young. And if I had to indenture myself to the Dark Lord to buy my mother's life, so be it."

Bonnie was crying. Crying big, solid-feeling tears, and she couldn't even truly say why. Maybe she was glad his heart wasn't in it. Maybe she was just about dying with the sadness of it. She didn't know, didn't care.  
The tears were coming thick and fast, absolute swarms of them.  
"Ian..."  
"I tried so hard to think of another way," Ian continued. "I spent days in my room with the curtains closed, trying to think. I...I set your letters aside because I could not think of a thing to say to you that would not cause you pain. And then when there was nothing else for it but to take the Mark, I could not face you, I..."

Bonnie was looking at him carefully as if he might attack, tears still rolling.  
"So I just...I kept the silence I had begun and hoped that one day I could explain it to you. And then I finally had that opportunity, and...and I lost my words, all I could do was show the Mark to you, and when you left I knew that I had made a mistake. And then you avoided me all this time."  
Bonnie closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the wall, as if she suddenly weighed far more than her small bones could bear.  
Ian took this chance to approach her in the calm, smooth step of one approaching a wild horse. He ran the pad of his thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone and caught her teardrops and wasn't swatted away.  
"Bonnie," he whispered, voice giving out already. "I'm...I am so scared. Scared of what the Mark means, scared of what I'll have to do...scared of losing you. If i haven't already."  
"You ha...haven't," Bonnie said through her tears. "I don't think you have, anyway."

And then the world dissolved, melting in the connection of warm lips and hot tears and gentle skin.

Dark clouds were far from behind them. In fact, they were still approaching, vividly dark against the pale horizon. But now, holding desperately to each other in the midst of their fear, they could pretend, for a little while, that it was all sunshine and warm spring meadows.  
Theirs were not the big, clashing battles of myth and legend. There were smaller, but the blows they dealt were just as hard.  
They'd won one, already. But these, too, were on the horizon. Gathering number and gaining speed.**  
**


End file.
